The Virginia Chronicles
by WontLastTwoDays
Summary: My first fic. Based on how Alexandria will rebuild and expand peace after All Out War with the Saviors. I blend in some comic information, so spoilers I guess. I'm familiar with VA, I'm imagining the survivors seeking and finding resources in loosely realistic locations. Richonne. Carnid. OCs.
1. Chapter 1

The debate about this supply run was particularly heated. It was going to contain a lot of first. The first joint run with Hilltop. The first long distance run after the war. And the first run that wouldn't have a short-term payoff, that was based on Deanna's vision for Alexandria. And the plan was full of potential failures. Ken of Hilltop knew of a large nursery out 75 miles. It was a wholesale nursery and at one time grew thousands of vegetable seedlings, fruit and nut trees and berry bushes to supply those big box stores. Ken had been a seasonal worker at the nursery before the infection. Hilltop couldn't do this run on its own. The manpower needed to burlap and load the trees, search the buildings for seeds, fertilizer and clear any walkers required a big team. Ken and Maggie had proposed to Michonne and Aaron to split the team and the supplies recovered 50/50. "There could be spring peaches, summer apples, late and early raspberries. We could extend our harvests by months," explained Ken.

"Trees? Trees don't pay off for years!" protested Carol. "It's a suicide run. A _stupid_ suicide run." Dwight's Saviors weren't likely to find the convoy's pass though threatening, especially a truck filled with plants. So the real threats were what could be beyond. "There might be vegetable seeds too, and fertilizer, tools," Aaron reported. "But, it's already fall. Aaron, you're still talking about stuff we can't use for 6 more months," protested Olivia. Tobin thought it a worthwhile idea, being seasoned at both hard labor outside the walls' protection, slaying walkers... and now humans. Michonne said that with the Saviors war over, it was time to rebuild and expand as Deanna wanted. "Fertilizer could be used for explosives," Carol said more quietly, faintly remembering a time in all their lives when that fact seemed scary, threatening. Now it was the only prospect in this run with which she found slight merit. "Look, Hilltop was ready for the future, that is why they were able to feed themselves and Saviors and then us," said Michonne. "Maggie isn't going to let us take most of our food from Hilltop indefinitely, we have to prepare for the future too. We can fight, we can survive, but we can do more too." Knowing that the plan had already been made in the minds of several, the dissenters almost conceded until Olivia spoke out, "What does Rick think of this?" Michonne shot her a steely side-eye. "Rick is not in charge right now. He's still got weeks of recovery. I'm not consulting with him on this." And the decision was final.

Tobin, Gabriel, Francine, and Michonne of Alexandria, Ken, Marco, Wesley, and Crystal of Hilltop set out from Alexandria at dawn a week later. Michonne, never the farmer type, was there for lookout and silent walker slaying. Ken was the man in charge. He knew the general layout of the property, major and minor roads to get there. And of course, which plants would be valuable to them. They all felt the tension of getting this run right the first time.

As they approached the border with the Saviors they saw the scout tower. They slowed their trucks to a stop, not getting out of the vehicles. They paused half a minute to let the scout see the trucks were empty and the gunpower was minimal. Then they slowly rolled forward regaining speed a half mile down the road. No shots. No bombs. One hurdle down. "all in the name of some peaches," smirked Marco. They did the same dance at the outbound scout tower of the Saviors' territory and shortly found themselves in the beyond.

For ten miles beyond the roads were clear, not a walker or even debris. The Saviors must have picked it clean long ago. Then the suburbia dotted with forests gave way to field after field of farmland. Walkers peppered the landscape. A small group huddled by a fresh deer carcass oblivious to passing trucks or the vultures awaiting their turn to feast just feet beyond them.

Then a car pile up outside of Upperville, made the convoy use their first detour. Michonne counted the walkers she could see in the town's streets as the trucks turned. It was more than she'd have liked. Even though Ken was itching to get there, he complied when Michonne directed that they take the last few miles slow. She wanted to scope out any living or dead neighbors and if this place was even still standing. This part of Virginia was hilly country, so they didn't get a good look at the place until a crest at quarter mile away. Ken, Michonne and Tobin exchanged the binoculars. The nursery was overgrown, but it was definitely still there. Ken was right, but Carol was too, no one wanted pecan trees when the world was ending.

They rolled onto the edge of the property pulling up beside each other to review the plan. Michonne, Crystal and Marco would search the buildings and the seed stores at the front of the property. Ken and the rest would head toward the fruit bushes and then the trees. They reviewed distress signals and agreed to meet at 2pm to head back. Ken hopped out of the cab of the truck, pushed the unlocked steel gate bar wide and the convoy parted one to the fields, the other to the stores.

Ken knew that the fruit bushes were a gamble, sitting in black plastic buckets on professional black landscape fabric for 3 years what not a recipe for survival. However, if anything was left, they'd be the hardiest and bode well for taking root in camp. Ken instructed the team what to look for, signs of life, but not disease, and to work fast. Tobin and Francine took the first two rows, Gabriel and Ken the farthest two rows, all the length of a football field. They gave themselves 1 hour to meet in the middle while Wesley kept look out and loaded any finds onto the trucks.

The tarp walled buildings of the nursery were covered in creeping vines now. Even with daylight, flashlights would be needed inside. Marco turned off the engine. Michonne put her arm in front of him before he could open the cab door. She put her finger to her mouth and mouthed "listen" to him. A few faint groans echoed. There would be company.

Ken had told Marco and Crystal in advance what to do when they got into the buildings. If the seed stores were wet, forget it and move onto hunting for tools, fertilizer and lastly seedlings. Like the fruit bushes, Ken knew 3rd generation seedlings were a long shot. Crystal spotted a car bumper at the far side of the building. She motioned to Michonne before grabbing the gasoline tank and tube out of the back of the cab. If there were any gasoline left, perhaps at least that would replenish the gas lost on this harebrained run. Quietly and quickly the 3 ran over to the car. Crystal popped open the gas door with her crowbar and got to work. Michonne began to study the building entrance nearest the car. Marco used his hunting knife to whack at some of the few vines overgrowing the door. Crystal, done siphoning, was screwing the cap on the container. She lifted it slightly off the ground to get a sense of its weight and shrugged a "meh."

She and Marco ran back to the truck dropping off the gasoline and returned just as Michonne was quietly pushing in on the door. The trapped air raced out and with it a big whiff of moist, moldy stench. A quick glance at hanging baskets told her this was a houseplants and tropicals building. She shut back the door and motioned the team on. Two buildings later, they glanced overgrown tomato plants and knew that was the vegetable seedling building. Michonne slashed the tarping with her katana so they'd remember which to return to and they pressed on to the middle of the compound, this time, they found a 2 story square cinder block building with almost no windows and exterior iron stairwells. This had to be the seed store. The building didn't appear to have any damage.

Michonne and Crystal approached the door to the building while Marco scanned the area for walkers. Michonne knocked loudly. Hearing nothing, motioned to Crystal to use her crowbar on the door. Then Crystal, Michonne and Marco slipped inside, closing the door behind them.

The room was dusty and quiet. The metal desk and filing cabinets untouched, thick with cobwebs. Crystal noticed the stair well to below ground. She signaled to Marco and the two took each stair down quietly, prowling. Michonne glanced at the upper stairwell and the light that flooded down from it. Michonne heard a quick whistle from below. Marco was smiling at the base of the stairwell. "It's dry and loaded," he whispered as he ducked back to the industrial cellar. Each bin on the metal shelves was coded, so they'd have to guess. Crystal knew what beans, peas, and melon seeds looked like. She sprinted down the rows, pulling out each bin looking for something she recognized from food. Marco did the same. Stacking promising bins at the base of the stairwell.

Michonne, headed upstairs toward the light, her right hand on the handle of her katana. Stealthy, she reached the top of the stairs and jiggled the door handle. It was just more office space, but, she did get a clear elevated view of the whole compound. And below her was a separate single story concrete walled building with a metal roof, originally blocked from the view outside. It was marked with all kinds of hazard symbols. Michonne smiled as she realized Carol would be appeased.

The next time Crystal appeared at the base of the stairwell with a bin of beans, Michonne told her about the fertilizer building. Crystal ducked back into the basement to tell Marco. She and Marco agreed that she would stay and keep trying to decipher which bins were potential food. Marco ran up the stairs two at a time to join Michonne.

Marco and Michonne quietly exited the seed store and heard to roamers nearby. Marco closed the door tightly behind him and Michonne drew her sword for a second time. A wind or weather gauge of some type was reflecting the bright sun sending jumping light all along the west wall of the building. The dancing light display had drawn a small group of roamers near blocking their path to the fertilizer building. Michonne would have normally left them to their distraction, but she feared their attention lost, they'd threaten Crystal. She signaled attack formation to Marco and the two snuck into the fray.

Sli-plunk-sli-plunk, Michonne got the first 2 unexpecting heads in one wide swipe. The walkers turned at the action. Marco took his hunting knife to the temple of one, Michonne complemented by slicing the skull top of the walker flanking her right and then her left. Marco pushed back the roamer at his front to beat in the roamer trying for his arm with the butt of his knife. Finally reaching his knife behind his front attacker and sinking his blade deep in the base of this skull. They scanned and not seeing any imminent walkers, ran toward the building.

The fertilizer building turned out to be less of a building and more like a horse stable with a series of concrete walled bays. It reminded Michonne briefly of the prison, but without bars. Michonne shined a flashlight in at each bay's contents. Michonne was glad to see large bags stacked on pallets in one because there was no way they were going to be able to extract whatever was in the huge plastic jugs or find something strong enough to scoop the mountain of loose fertilizer into. Michonne whispered to Marco, "I'm going to pull the truck around. It will be easier than hauling these bags back. Marco nodded. And followed her to the entrance to stand guard.

Michonne ran silent and fast toward the truck. She tried not to rev the engine too loudly as she headed toward the buildings. She drove slightly past the path to the fertilizer building, setting the gear in reverse and drove backwards toward the building. She figured less noise and time wasted near the walk-in light show. She allowed herself a small smirk as she easily closed the distance navigating over her shoulder. Marco's eyes widened a bit with disbelief when he saw the truck approach in reverse. He nodded at Michonne when she jumped out of the truck and headed inside to grab the first bag. They took turns in the relay never both being in the fertilizer shed at the same time. The openness of both the shed and the distance to the seed store rippled concern down Michonne's spine setting it straight as an arrow.

After several trips, Michonne heard Crystal call out her name with panicked pitch. "Marco, let's go!" Michonne ran ahead while Marco jumped into the cab of the truck. Michonne came upon Crystal trying pin a walker while not dropping the two large bins of precious seeds in her arms. Crystal had known their location, but not the walker activity. Michonne picked up the pace and yelled to attract the frail but still deadly thing away. Crystal backed to the wall clutching the bins with white knuckles. Michonne ended the walker in two blows of her sword because her arms were tired from lugging the bags of fertilizer. She stepped back making a path for Marco in the truck and shot Crystal a steely glare that lectured the young woman on her foolishness for assuming safety.

Michonne stayed by the truck as Marco and Crystal transferred the seed bins aboard. When they were finished, Michonne nodded for the 2 to pile into the cab. "We made good time," she said. "We could go back to look for seedlings in that greenhouse, but I'm thinking we just head back to meet up." Crystal agreed, "I think the seeds we got are more valuable."

The trio arrived back at the entrance gate around 1:30 and rewarded themselves with protein bars and stale Gatorade.

Tobin, Francine, and Gabriel panted heavily hands on their thighs, sweat dripping from their temples. Francine forced out," I haven't run suicide drills in a decade," remembering her high school basketball coach. Ken looked over the salvaged plants. 21 viable berry bushes and 24 muscadine vines. He smirked amazed at their survival. "Climb into the truck," he said to the group, "I'll drive us over to the trees." The team let out a collective silent "shit" as the exhaled deeply before climbing into the bed of the truck with their trophies. Francine looked up at Wesley, "I'll be on watch at our next stop."

The truck rolled to a stop at the back edge of the property. The huge greenhouses where the rest of the team scavenged so far in the distance they looked like marshmallows. This made Francine a bit nervous at her declaration to guard the group. "Ok, let's go," said Ken. "Tobin, grab the axe and shovel. The trees will have definitely rooted into the ground burlapped or not. Let's start over here." Gabriel, Tobin and Wesley headed with Ken down a row of 6-foot trees. Francine grabs the rifle with the scope and starts scanning the area for walkers. The back part of the farm abuts woods making poor sight lines. Ken scans the tags on the young trees. _Pecans, Candor peach, Atlantic Queen pear, and Gilpin and Carolina Red apples_ , Ken repeated in his head over and over as he scanned each tree. _Pecans, Can.._ "Candor," Ken said aloud and pointed the trees out to the group. "Tobin, Wesley, dig these 3 out. Gabriel and I will spread out the bedsheets." Bedsheets were the improvisation since the team didn't know if they'd find usable burlap. Ken continued to scan the row, Gabriel trailing behind him. "Gilpin. Here, Gabriel. Let's get to work."

At the edge of the row, Francine could hear the crews grunting as they dug out the trees. She scanned the edges of the forest more rapidly now knowing that sweaty, grunting humans would definitely attract the dead. Then she saw it. A male, tall one arm chewed off above the elbow, but its head and those dangerous teeth pristine, for a walker. Francine made the quick decision to not shoot but let it come closer so that she could get a good blow to the head with her crowbar. She made a quick warning whistle and the men looked up from their work. Tobin being the closest to her and the walker stopped digging and started toward the fight in case Francine needed back up with this tall one. The rest continued their work. When the walker made it into the clear aisle, Francine approached deliberately and quickly. Before it could tilt his head down at her, she rammed the crowbar straight up through the neck and into the base of the skull. The limp body fell toward her as she yanked her crowbar out. She stepped aside to let it fall. She looked up a Tobin who nodded at her before heading back to help Wesley lift the trees out of the ground.

Francine had to take out 4 more walkers while the men worked, 2 at once. But Rosita had taught her how to take out their knees, so she was never in real danger. The men's' arms burned like fire hauling 15 trees and lifting them onto the truck bed. Tobin looked at his watch, "Damn, it's after 2! We're late for meeting up. Let's go." The team jumped in the truck and speed toward the rendezvous.

At 2:18 Michonne saw treetops wiggling in the air and new their crew was approaching. She let out a sigh of relief not because she feared the team mostly made up of Alexandrians wouldn't make it back, but because Rick wasn't here punch each one for the time infraction. He would have set out at 2:05 looking for a fight with walkers, plunderers or idiots. Ken hopped out of the truck bed still rolling eager to get a look at what Michonne's crew got. Before he could get too deep into his inventory, Michonne warned him, "Ken, we can do that back at Alexandria. Let's get going."

Once inside the gates, the crews pulled all but a few trees off the truck beds to assess the score. A few Alexandrians gathered around mostly unimpressed by rows of overgrown plants. Ken turned to Tobin with instructions, "Soak those tree root balls in water tonight and get them in the ground in the morning if they are going to have any chance of setting before winter. And tell Olivia to get those seed in a cool dark place asap." Tobin patted Ken's shoulder in appreciation. Then, Ken turned to his Hilltop crew, "load our half in the truck. We gotta get going." "This was good, let's do it again sometime," Michonne said with a smile. "We'll cook up the next plot," she promised as she shook Ken's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

When Michonne got back to the house it was already dark. In the foyer, she let out a deep exhale, not realizing she had been holding in. She felt almost exhilarated. She accomplished something good, just good. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been beyond the walls not seeking to kill someone. She deeply hoped the plants they got would be of use and bare them food, but just the act of 2 communities working together for a common good filled her purpose. The pain was bearing usefulness just as Deanna had promised.

Her skin still vibrating with pride, Michonne removed her shoes and tip-toed upstairs heading for the shower. She peeked in Judy's room forgetting she and Carl were at a sleepover tonight since Rick was in no shape to chase her around and Michonne didn't know how long the run would take. Michonne frowned at the empty room.

When Michonne entered their bedroom, Rick was sleeping as she expected. She wondered if he did his physical therapy today or had just rested there. She undressed and headed straight for the bathroom. During her long, hot shower Michonne's thoughts wandered to all the times when Rick's lust would not allow her such extended privacy. She felt no satisfaction in the knowledge that this was just a reprieve and her time would be his again, someday. The vibrations of her skin began to fade.

Michonne twisted her damp dreadlocks into a loose bun, dressed in pajama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt and headed downstairs to get Rick a fresh glass of ice water. Ice, what a luxury she sighed. She placed the water and aspirin on Rick's nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. She brushed the stray curls from his forehead. Her hand lingered checking for a temperature, then she gently let her fingertips graze his temple, salt-and-pepper jaw and finally his lips. Rick let out a thick quiet moan at her touch. His eyelids fluttered trying to open. "It's late. I brought you some aspirin," planting a long kiss on his cheek, then nibbling on his bottom lip. She felt Rick's hand slide under her sweatshirt and start to stroke her lower back before he even opened his eyes. "How was your day?" He was still half asleep, but coming to to check on her. He could feel her smile through his eyelids and opened them just in time to see it before she started to speak. "Really good. I'll tell you about it another time. Now sit up and take your meds." Awake, Rick realized everything hurt, but especially his shattered leg. It screamed and he gasped putting his arms around Michonne's neck as leverage. Michonne didn't frown at his pain, stayed placid, but the tear ducts in her eyes burned. He'd given everything to save Alexandria. Rick swallowed his pills, gulped half of his water and finally looked Michonne full on. He could see she had a good day. He could feel it on her skin. Jealousy shot a pain down his leg and he grimaced. "Thank you," he said handing her back the water. She helped him lie back down again. He sucked air through his teeth till he was finally prone and exhaled letting his strength go. Michonne walked around to her side of the bed, again at a different time in their life she would have just straddled him to get across. She wiggled over to his side of the bed to rest her head on his chest his arm cradling her. They lay there silent and in love till they both fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Peace with the Saviors gave Carl time to think, not that he was idol. He worked with the construction scouting crew stripping homes outside the walls to rebuild what Negan blew up. Pulling down siding and popping door hinges was not as mentally distracting as he'd hoped. He missed his friend. He missed Enid. He understood why she was living with Maggie at Hilltop, but it was harder and harder to catch a ride with the rebuilding effort fully underway. It was now going on 2 months since he'd been able to talk to the only person who truly knew him. And he wanted his comics back. He tried to talk to the other teens in the community, but after the war his peers were happy to go back to acting weak. Carl despised it even more than when he originally arrived. His dad was shut in barely able to move and all these dicks wanted to talk about were trick shots. So Carl started going to school less and taking on more community work. Michonne was too busy running the community and Rick was too isolated from the town gossip to notice. He also quietly took on a job no one wanted. Determined not to forget and not to become weak, he was responsible for bringing their only prisoner his evening meal.

Today's job was to strip a garage. Still being in a rich suburb of D.C. the relatively newly built garage looked like a house, aside from the 3 large garage doors. Daryl gave the all clear and Carl entered, hammer and chisel in hand, heading straight for the casings around the vinyl windows. But then he stopped and looked around. The prior owner must have been a serious cyclist because several lean cycles frames were hanging from ceiling racks. Tires, tubes, chains, pedals, posters commemorating road races all meticulously stored and displayed. "Wow," Carl whispered. Before the turn, people used to bike tens, hundreds of miles just for fucking fun. Then it hit him, if Carl couldn't find a ride, he could just bike to Hilltop. Daryl saw the light in Carl's eye. "Hey man, we can sweep 'em if I want but don't think you're getting on one of these without checking with Chonne first. I'm not going to die by sword just so you can go see your girl." Carl looked up at Daryl unamused. "She's not 'my girl.' We're closer than that. Or, we, we were." Daryl nodded thinking of his best friend lost to the Kingdom. Damn, this kid was wise. "Well, still Michonne must clear it first." "Let's just get them on the truck, I'll take it from there," said the ragged warrior trapped in a kid's body.

"Bicycles" Michonne asked puzzled. She couldn't quite see the purpose. Alexandria was small enough one could run from one end to the other in 5 minutes. And particularly, these ones that Carl brought back couldn't be equipped for hauling, they were too lean. "What for?" Carl looked at her like he was conducting business. "For runs."

"No, Carl, these aren't for runs. They're too light, too fragile."

"These are just to start. We can look for stronger ones. But I could use these to learn how to maintain them, how they work."

That line seemed to be working.

"And… and since they are fast, we could use them for travel."

"Travel?" He was losing her.

"The gas is going bad, mom. And we need cars for real jobs. But what about when you want to talk to Maggie or Ezekiel?"  
"Or Enid?" No way was Michonne going to get swindled by this little negotiator. After all she was the one who helped him with his first con job.

Carl didn't flinch. This was business, not personal, he had convinced himself of it. He needed those comic books.

"We need more options is all."

"They're risky, Carl. Who is capable enough to handle themselves should they pop a flat or should a pack of walkers appear in the road?"

Carl didn't answer back immediately, he wanted to appear measured, prepared, like his mom standing before him and not the hot-headed son of a hot-head who piled onto a truck full of mattresses.

"We can start like the runs crew started. Staying near to the community as we get more comfortable with the equipment. Anyone can get trapped by walkers in the road, car or no car. It has to be a little safer than being on foot, Michonne."

Michonne thought for a while and then nodded. She largely agreed just to establish boundaries for what she knew he'd attempt to do anyway. He was almost a man afterall. "Just for learning purposes. Slow speeds only, I want no reports of you or anyone else running over any neighbors. You'll have to tell Rick what you're up to once you're ready to actually ride anywhere outside the walls. Those are the terms."


	4. Chapter 4

_Warning: I believe in the magic of television, so the following contains an older Judith. Perhaps the war with the Saviors took a long while, perhaps it did not, but if Carl is a teenager, then Judith needs to do some rapid aging as well. The next time we see her after this, she may have age jumped some more_ _, depends on how done with preschoolers I am. I may come back and expand on this chapter, but I've got a bigger story that I'm eager to tell in the next chapter._

* * *

Fall was in full swing. When the Alexandrians weren't on duty, they all pitched in to help with the canning. With this, the Alexandrians were showing Rick's crew how it's done. Olivia's feeling of self-importance increased 100 fold as she supervised each station and micromanaged each task. She made sure to correct Rosita's jar boiling technique. Even little Judith had a job taking the roasted pumpkin skins and other scraps and dumping them in the compost. Not surprising, Judith loved it, while Michonne cursed under her breath each night at bath time scrubbing stickiness and dirt from everywhere. Michonne couldn't say no to the assignment, even the preschooler needed to learn what to do. Judy was three years old, the realization crashing over her like a wave, Michonne's heart clenched with the memory. She wanted so badly to remember the good, but the chilly evening air froze her bones. By the fall of that year, he was already… "Stop it," she said aloud. Judy, confused, turned to her and like any petulant 3-year-old said, "No mama, you stop it." Michonne chuckled and cried at the same time. She lifted Judith out of the bath and took her to Rick for her bedtime routine.

While Rick was finally healthy enough to resume some leadership and household duties, he probably would never be able to crouch over a tub and bath his daughter again. So the nighttime routine silently became Michonne would give the bath, Rick helped her get dress, brush her hair and teeth, tell her a story embellishing the details to the point of absurdity, and stroke her soft brown hair till she fell asleep. Each parent missed the part they were no longer responsible for, but since the routine predicated on Rick's injuries, neither brought up their longing.

When Michonne handed the toweled child over to Rick he saw her tear stained face. Rick looked into her deep brown eyes silently asking what was wrong. Michonne shook her head to say not now, and Rick rubbed her shoulder and pulled her into him to kiss her forehead. Then he left her to her thoughts again glancing back with the silent message, I'll just be a minute, before turning with Judith to bedtime. Michonne decided she needed a hot shower to wash away her hot tears. She didn't hear Rick come into the bathroom, but she saw his outline from the fogged shower glass. "Michonne," he asked timidly, "what is it, baby?" Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. When she didn't answer, he stepped close to the glass and said, "I'm coming in."

* * *

The next morning Rick found Carl working on one of the bicycles he now knew Carl possessed. "How's your biker gang coming," grinned Rick.

Carl was not amused. "We've been about 20 miles out." Rick frowned. He hadn't intended for Carl to be so eager. He'd only said yes a few days ago. "Carl..."

"Relax dad, on route 16 only. We haven't even seen a walker."

Rick couldn't hide his relief. "Make sure to tell the gate and tower guards on duty where you all are going, how long you'll be, and what time you'll get back. And bring flare guns. I don't want you out for more than 2 hours at a time."

"Shit, dad. We can handle ourselves."

"Carl!"

"Dad, I'll report our travel plans and time, but we're building up riding to Hilltop. And just the trip out is 2 hours."

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then, I want a set schedule so Hilltop knows when to expect your team. And you must always travel in a pair, minimum. No solo visits, Carl. I'm going to talk to Jesus so he knows the rules. He'll be my enforcer there."

Carl turned his head to the left and looked away from Rick. It was his unique version of tuning Rick out. Rick was quickly losing patience with Carl's stunts, but looking at Carl's scar caused a wave of guilt to wash over him. So he asked the boy firmly, "OK?"

Carl looked back at his father, then down at the ground. He kicked a clod of dirt with his foot weighing the terms, shook his head like he was shaking off a counter argument and returning his father's gaze said finally, "ok."

Carl was grateful that Hilltop had some trades there. There were a few guys who were motivated to join him cycling regularly. Josh wanted to learn more about horticulture from Ken. Scott wanted to learn from the blacksmith and Carl said he did too. Even Rosita suggested she come along sometimes to get lessons from the Hilltop doctor, but Carl thought that was just her cover as another one of Rick's enforcers.

To keep up appearances, Carl did scout for bulkier built bicycles and asked folks to do the same. He even found a tricycle for Judith. But when it came to what he rode, Carl kept his road bike. When they were out on a down slope he needed the almost weightless flight. Even with an eye bandage and glasses the wind whipped passed his face and sent an intense pressure through the nerves of his eye socket. At first, the intensity was too much, his senses tingled sending thousands of messages about color, light, images to his brain. But the rush also obliterated any pain, all he could feel was unyielding wind. So he started to crave the speed and the freedom.

They still only went out about twenty miles for several weeks building endurance and familiarity to with the landscape. Each ride thus far a different person went out with them to try it. Carl noted places to hide in a rainstorm or walker herd. He thought about leaving guns in strategic locations but settled on leaving makeshift brain bashers, pipes, knives, rebar, bats and bottled water. He almost thought about these strategic deposits as paying it forward. So many times he'd seen people stranded on the road defenseless. So many times his family had wandered down the road thirsty. This was his gift, the new world version of rest stops.


	5. Chapter 5

During his convalescence, Rick had become an avid reader. He had asked Gabriel to raid Deanna's study and bring him back something good. Gabriel found the task morbid but was glad Rick seemed to be taking an interest in something more than, well, murder. He made sure the box of books contained a Bible but saw the text discarded in the corner upon his next visit. Rick loved reading history and the original owner of the former Monroe house, or maybe Deanna herself had collected several books about regional and local history.

Even though Rick was pretty much back at the helm, he kept up the reading habit in the evening after dinner. Lying on the couch, his leg elevated on a series of pillows Rick called out, "Hey Chonne, listen to this. ' _Wild horses have inhabited Assateague Island for hundreds of years. Some have suggested that the wild horses of Assateague trace their origin to horses released to forage on the Island by early settlers. However, the evidence strongly suggests that they are the descendants of the survivors of a Spanish galleon which wrecked off the coast of Assateague. Two herds of wild horses make their home on Assateague Island, separated by a fence at the Maryland-Virginia line. These sturdy, shaggy horses have adapted to their environment over the years by eating dune and marsh grasses and drinking fresh water from ponds. Each year the Chincoteague Volunteer League maintains a herd of approximately 150 adult horses on Assateague Island. The League controls the herd size with an annual auction. Each year tens of thousands of spectators come to watch the Saltwater Cowboys swim the herd from Assateague Island to Chincoteague Island._ ' Look, it's even got a picture."

Michonne walks over to the couch from the kitchen. She studies the book image in Rick's hands. Then, she takes the book from him, dog-ears the page to the sound of Rick's feigned protest and lightly tosses it on the coffee table. Rick looks up at her not quite able read her matter-of-fact expression, but he can see she's a woman on a mission. She takes the pillows from under his leg and one by and tosses them aside on the floor. He grins, now on her same wavelength. Finally, she climbs on top of him still supporting most of her weight through her straddling thighs. She looks down at him her beautiful locks framing her face and finally says. "I would love an island vacation." Rick laughs and grabs her by the hips guiding her to sit more firmly on him. "Come here," he says beckoning her kiss. Michonne leans down and kisses him long and deep. Their lips part, but before her tongue can search his she feels his lips tighten in a grimace. She shifts her weight back onto her thighs, despite his greedy hands insisting her hips stay put. "What hurts," she whispers against his ear. He doesn't answer for half a second trying to keep the moment. But relenting, he admits, "hip." Michonne gives him a little smile, brushes his wild hair behind his ears and gets up. "Wait," he protests breathy. "Give me your hands," she commands. Rick complies and she pulls him slowly up off the couch and onto his feet. Steady, Rick wraps his arms around her waist and plants kisses on the exposed skin of her collar bone. Now he is the man on a mission. He lightly runs his tongue up the side of her neck, tasting her salty skin. He breaths heavily into her ear which causes the desired effect of sending thousands of tingles shooting down her spine. He loves to feel her quake at his touch. "Let's go get comfortable," she proffers. They each wrap an arm around the others waist and head upstairs.

* * *

Rick knew Ezekiel would be interested in Assateague. He had lost most of his herd and men during the war. Rick, Michonne and Rosita travelled down to the Kingdom to talk him about it. With Ezekiel's training, the Kingdom would be the best place to tame any horses and breed them, if there were any left to catch.

"I have been there," said Ezekiel warmly, "before the infection. The horses were beautiful. Wild and docile. They offered kayak tours where you could paddle right up to them in the marshes." Ezekiel exhaled at the fond memory.

"So, would you be willing to go again? See if they are still there. And maybe steer some home," asked Rick.

Ezekiel thought about this. "You are asking a lot, friend. The Eastern Shore is hard to get to, even before walkers. There are only two bridges and one long dead ferry. Perhaps we could pay a visit, but getting a herd of horses past a herd of walkers in either Annapolis or Virginia Beach, well, that is quite the feat."

Rick rubbed his bearded jaw with his thumb. "I know who I can ask about Annapolis."

"Who?"

"My prisoner, he's been east of D.C."

"Why would he tell you the truth?"

"Because everyone else in Alexandria wants him dead. If he lies, says Annapolis is safe and I die, he dies."

Rosita nodded in agreement to the veracity of Rick's statement, then offered, "Let's say Annapolis is out. What about Virginia Beach?"

"It's part bridge and part underwater tunnel, if I recall correctly. The tunnel part will surely be gone now so it's probably not an option. We'd need a boat."

"And if we're going to need a boat, then there is no reason to set sail at Virginia Beach," Michonne concluded. "We can take the Potomac River out."

"Sounds like we would need a pretty big boat, that's a lot of diesel," Rick determined.

"Friends, you live in Alexandria. You don't take a motor boat. You take a sailboat."

Rosita and Michonne looked at each other incredulously.

"Yes, and I happen to know a fine sailor. Come with me." Ezekiel gets up. Michonne, Rick and Rosita follow him out into the gardens where a young woman was covering the rows for winter.

"Taylor, I'd like to introduce you to the leaders of Alexandria, Rick and his partner Michonne and their head of security, Rosita." Ezekiel grinned knowing this barely 20-year-old, barely over 5-foot woman was not the fine sailor his guests expected. "Rosita, Michonne, Rick, this is Taylor Roesch."

"Hello," the young woman said with a bright smile as she held out her hand giving each a firm shake, "it's a pleasure to met you in person. Thank you, thank you so much."

Rick gave a half nod and looked at the ground, still not ready to be the legend yet. Michonne smiled briefly at the young woman and spoke. "Ezekiel tells us you are a sailor."

Taylor smiled again in acknowledgement, but this time not as brightly. "Not since everything happened. But, yeah, my whole family was into sailing. My father owned a J80 and I used to be a part of his crew in regional regattas, my older brother Michael and I. He sold it when my mother and he got divorced. After that, I sometimes went with my aunt or cousins." Then she quietly added, "They're all gone now."

"Taylor, Rick and Michonne wish to explore the shoreline, maybe even Assateague," Ezekiel proposed gently.

"The horses," she gasped with a mixture of excitement and horror. She too had seen what the Dead did to the trapped beauties. After a pause, collecting her thoughts, her face turned pale. "They float you know... the dead. My dorm was near the Potomac, when I was trying to escape I saw them. People jumping to their death but not... dying. I saw some that had washed up on shore start crawling back up on land too. It's why I didn't go to the marina. My first thought was the sea, but you cannot sail alone and it wasn't safe. Those things, they may have washed up near Assateague. There may be no horses at all."

Everyone went silent for a while as they pondered the young sailor's words.

Finally, Michonne spoke, "We'd like to have a look anyway. We don't know how we'd get them back, land or boat, but we think it is time to explore the water. If we could get a crew of volunteers, would you teach us?"

Taylor thought about this for a moment. She was so honored to finally be of some real use, but all that she had seen both at the river and since made her uninterested in adventuring. She was athletic but not a risk taker. When your whole family sails, it didn't seem like a risky thing to do, but now it seemed unfathomably dangerous. "I…" she started to shake her head. "We know how to fight the walkers," Rosita cut in, "I'm sure you do too, but we've fought hundreds. We can stop them in the water too."

"I can train a crew, go out with you. But I cannot go to Assateague. If I'm right and the dead got there first, I … I don't think I could handle it."

"What you are offering is more than enough," Rick said. "Thank you."

Before the three headed home, Rick and Michonne stopped in to check on Carol, who was not baking cookies or coordinating a group casserole supper. She wasn't planning for the next war either. But both Rick and Michonne could tell she was a leader there, not invisible like at Alexandria. Carol approved of the idea of Taylor teaching a crew to sail. "It's time for her to show everyone her special talents," she said with almost pride. Then, she chatted with them about Carl, Judith, briefly about the original crew and even more briefly about Daryl. Finally, Rick mentioned that if Carl's bike club starts trying to make trips down to The Kingdom to watch out for him and enforce a schedule. Carol smiled.

Rick was silent on the ride home. Rosita and Michonne chatted about how to spear floating walkers, where to locate good street maps and nautical maps, and who might be interested in learning to sail. Rick thought about how Taylor reminded him of Beth, a girl clearly stronger than she gave herself credit for. And he thought about Carol and how confident she looked at the Kingdom. He thought about how he failed her first with Sophia and then at the Prison, exiling her. Ezekiel had given Carol what Rick could not, unbetrayed trust and an actual home. The acute reminder of his failures to keep his people safe and the nagging return of his chronic pain from all the day's activity put him in a sullen mood. Michonne could see that he was in his head. She didn't interrupt him or try to draw him into the planning. She would wait till they were at home and tell Judy to give her daddy a tickle attack.

* * *

"We should ask all the communities for volunteers," Rick said to the interest group that had formed a week later.

"Sounds great, I'm sure Jesus or Marco would be interested," said Rosita.

"I mean all the communities, the Saviors too."

Silence. The Alexandrians had gotten used to the Saviors not shooting at them, but to actually go scouting with them? With the people that tried to destroy them?

"Rick, who of our allies would volunteer to get on a boat with them? Hell, who of us would volunteer?" More silence.

"They've been to Annapolis. They know how to get there in one piece through D.C. I spoke to Dwight about it at our last trade."

"Our sailor is already barely on board," Michonne shared, "if the Saviors can help us get to the water without incident, then it will build confidence for her and all the crew." Her support of the idea not appearing to sway the room, Michonne offered, "I'll volunteer. I'll be on the crew-in-training."

Rick looked at Michonne, he wanted to express gratitude for her support, but his love had just volunteered to sail away. He looked back at the group of cowards that had just separated Michonne from him. He decided to suck his teeth and fiddle with the clasp on his gun holster instead of punch someone. "Two others of you are going to volunteer today too," he instructed the group. With that, Rick got up and said, "I'm going to check with Tobin about the wall repairs."


	6. Chapter 6

That night Michonne got home from her security shift to find Rick making dinner with Judith, spaghetti again. Rick smiled when he heard the door close. "Carl's back with the construction crew. They're unloading at site number 3, then he'll be home," Michonne reported. "Good. What did miss at the Annapolis meeting?"

Michonne sighed and began to rub Judith's back, "Well, you were heard loud and clear. We're going to ask all the communities to volunteer 3 people to learn from Taylor and 2 more to help us get to Annapolis, if they can spare it. We're going to talk to Hilltop about spears and some custom weapons and the Sanctuary about known obstacles around D.C. and vehicles. We're thinking of heading out in 3 weeks."

Rick nodded quietly, listening.

"So that gives you three weeks to work on your physical therapy and decide who's going to watch Judith."

He looked up a Michonne, not understanding. "Rick, this was your idea to bring us all together for this. You need to be there to lead us. You may not feel ready now, but you will be." Michonne knew the feeling of leading a good expedition. She wanted Rick to have the same honor.

Rick grinned and looked down and back up at those exquisite bright brown eyes. "A trip to the shore with the woman I love. That sounds nice."

Michonne smiled one of her radiant smiles. "Us and like 20 others, but yeah it does sound nice. We should tell Carl tonight and head up to Hilltop in the morning. Maggie and Jesus might be a hard sale. And I'm sure Carl would like to see Enid."

* * *

The next day, Carl was being ridiculous. When he saw Rick loading the next delivery of bullets into the car for Hilltop, he insisted on bringing up a bike as well. "Carl, I said no solo trips," Rick looked on, exasperated.

"Then, we'll bring two," Carl countered.

20 minutes later Michonne came back from dropping Judith off at Gabriel's to find 2 bikes in the trunk with the trunk hood tied down with wire. She laughed at the sight, her businessman was at it again. Carl sat in the back seat trying to hide his smirk while Rick, in the driver's seat, stared at his watch and back up at the direction of Gabriel's house. Rick relaxed his shoulders when he finally saw Michonne approaching.

"Carl, when are we going to teach you how to drive?" Michonne teased as she slid into the passenger's seat.

"Oh, I already know how to drive," Carl said matter-of-factually. Michonne and Rick looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

Carl savored the quizzical silence. "Aaron and Daryl taught me. I drive the truck around when we're on construction sites."

Rick nodded making a mental note to have a word with Daryl. Michonne looked back and smiled at Carl. "You're a man on the move." Carl beamed before catching himself and returning to his brooding nihilist face. Rick tapped the dashboard, cranked the car and said, "well let's get a move on then."

At Hilltop, Jesus greeted the Grimes warmly. Rick pulled him over to the trunk to talk about these ridiculous bicycles. Carl went in search of Enid and Michonne, Maggie. Carl found Enid talking with a small group of teens. She looked up from the conversation and saw her best friend. She smiled stood up and walked quickly toward him, careful to not look too eager. When they stood not a foot apart they both looked at each other embarrassed and ecstatic. "Hey" Carl said and leaned in like he wanted to hug her.

"Hey to you too," Enid said with a knowing smile.

"Still got my comics?"

"Yeah. You still got mine?"

"I brought them with me, plus some more I found. I'm done with them all now you can have them."

"Cool, you can have yours back too. I'll ask Will if I can lend you his." She started to walk back over to her group to ask.

"Wait. I want to show you something first. Come on."

Enid looked back at her friends and waved to them that she'd be back in a minute.

The very short walk back to the car felt like a mile. The two walked side by side occasionally letting the knuckles of their hands brush by each other. "So, I've started a new thing."

"Oh yeah, what is it?"

Just as Jesus and Rick came into view pulling the bicycles out of the car, Carl smirked a little, "a bike gang."

"A what?" Laughed Enid.

"See for yourself" and he took one of the bikes from Jesus and rolled it over to Enid. Rick and Jesus glanced at each other, shook their heads and headed into the big house.

Enid was quiet as Carl told her all about his adventures taking different people out, the goal of riding to Hilltop, Rick's rules. She rubbed the handles of the bike absent-mindedly as he spoke. Then he talked about how he found the original bikes and his road bike, its speed and leanness. He started to talk about the rush, when he noticed she didn't seem excited about his adventures. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It sounds really cool, Carl."

"But?"

"But, I told you about my parents. Two hours on the road, out in the open. That. That's really risky."

Carl looked away. He felt stupid going on like that when what Enid hated most was open exposure. "I'm making the route safer. Every 5 miles or so, I'm leaving a bag of weapons against walkers, bottled water even. It's not like before." He thought of how defenseless she was on the road after her parents turned. "I'm also noting any shelter, I could start putting them on a map so people would know where to find them without me."

Enid smiled. "You did all of this to get to Hilltop?"

"Yeah. We can't risk the gas anymore."

Enid leaned up and kissed Carl on the cheek. "Yeah, the gas."

* * *

Rick and Jesus found Maggie and Michonne in the front sitting room of the big house. The women hadn't even sat down yet as Michonne had one pinky ensnared in the tiny hand of a newborn in Maggie's arms and her other arm still wrapped around Maggie's waist. The two women stood close together beaming at each other teary eyed, sharing pregnancy stories.

"Look at you," Rick said loudly as they entered the room. He didn't want to appear to be sneaking up on this intimate scene. The women opened their circle and brought Rick in for a quick hug. "How is this little one?!"

"Perfect," She said in that quiet confident tone of a mother. "This is Hershel."

"Hello, Hershel." Rick cooed at the sleeping baby. Well, we better share our business before you wake up! Have a seat," he gestured to Maggie.

Rick and Michonne laid out the plan, a trip to Annapolis to scout for potential boats, a crew-in-training practicing sailing, the security crew scoping out the bridge and some terrain approaching the Eastern Shore. They hadn't even gotten to the horses yet.

"Wow." Maggie said. "You're going to need a big crew."

"Yes, that is why we're asking all the communities for volunteers. All of them, us, Kingdom, you all and Sanctuary."

"Woah." Maggie looked at Jesus and back again at Rick and Michonne. "Come again? Did you say Sanctuary?"

"Maggie…"

Hershel began to whimper. Maggie unbuttoned the center of her flannel shirt to nurse. After, she felt him latch well, she looked up the reckless man before her.

"No, Rick. No."

"Maggie, we cannot do it without Hilltop or Sanctuary. Ezekiel's got almost no one left. And we cannot take half of Alexandria."

"Ezekiel has almost no people because the Saviors killed them and lots of yours and lots of ours too, Rick."

"The Saviors are in a unique position to help. They've been in this direction before. They've got a big group, well trained, well traveled, well fueled with not a whole hell lot to do anymore now that they are not terrorizing us. It could work. You know it could."

"How fucking dare you."

"Rick," Jesus chimed in before the warrior mama clawed his friend's eyeballs out. "I'll do it. I'd love to go, actually."

"That's your choice." Maggie said not taking her eyes off of Rick. "Your choice, not the community's."

"Understood. If I happen to ask a few friends if they are interested, privately of course, that will be their choice too. Personal choice only."

Maggie seethed. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. She unlatched Hershel and switched sides. "Perhaps your friend's should relocate to Alexandria, if they come back."

"Maggie, I'm going too. And Rick. I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't think we could handle the Saviors and all the communities, really. I cannot promise your volunteers will come back alive, but I can promise they won't die at the hands of the Saviors," Michonne vowed.

With this Maggie leaned back drawing her nursing son close, "Winter will be here soon. I'll be busy with this baby. It will be a few less mouths to feed."

"And there's one more thing." Rick said unflustered. "We'll need to talk to your blacksmith about specialized weapons. Spears we can use in the water and such."

"You're going to spear fish in the bay?" Maggie asked sarcastically.

"No," replied Michonne, "walkers."


	7. Chapter 7

Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Juan, and Francine of Alexandria

Jesus, Marco, Richard, and Lin of Hilltop

Taylor, Adam, D'Marcus, and Kai of the Kingdom

Esme, Ian, Mszizi, Arturo, and Vincent of Sanctuary

* * *

The convoy met up at the Kingdom on a Saturday morning almost 3 weeks later. Marco brought the extra weapons Hilltop had made plus a large quantity of rations. Maggie decided not to let them all starve. Rick brought a few cases of bullets and several guns from Alexandria, plus fortifications. The Saviors delivered on the extra fuel and large vehicles. D'Marcus brought protective gear, more rations, and the sailor.

Before they headed out Rick reminded everyone of the plan, "Today is a good day! Thanks to Maggie, Ezekiel and Dwight, we are prepared for this month long mission. Vincent here, is going to lead our convoy to old town Annapolis. You all have the route maps with detour instructions as needed. No stopping unless absolutely necessary.

Once we get there, we're going to need to be quiet and move quickly to secure a few buildings where we can set up a base camp and fortifications. Be prepared to fight, but remember no offensive! Only respond if attacked. When we have a secure perimeter, hopefully tomorrow, we can set up, clear walkers, and maybe get a scout team down to the marina. Does everyone one know their assignment upon arrival? "

Everyone nodded. "I know you've all volunteered to do this. Be proud, this will be a story for the grandkids, the convoy that expanded our communities to the sea. Let's head out!"

The 3 utility trucks headed out. Michonne made sure that Taylor and her boyfriend Adam rode with Alexandria. She wanted Taylor to feel as secure as possible since she was the star of the second act.

Navigating the beltway was like navigating a Tetris game. Weaving in and out of medians, HOV lanes and Vincent was a Tetris master. They did see small herds but were able to either weave away or run over some groupings in their military grade vehicles.

Route 52 proved much harder. Being the only main road east-west. The convoy ran into a multi-car pile up almost immediately after exiting the beltline. They had to take the very next detour into a dense suburbia. Rick liked to stay away from high-density areas so weaving through the neighborhood streets made him jittery. He saw the walkers appear in the road in the wake of their noise.

When they reconnected with 52 again, the road was open and they continued on Annapolis. As they approached the city limits the accidents piled up in the highway again. Vincent decided to take an earlier exit into the city as another detour. The convoy stayed on the western edge of town and finally turned left approaching old town and the waters edge from the south.

As they rolled slowly into old town, Vincent saw the double flashing headlight which was the sign from Rick to set up basecamp. To his left was a short city block of colonial era 2 and 3 story buildings, to his right was the marina still half full of boats.

Vincent went to the end of the block and parked perpendicular to the city block, Daryl parked behind him, the start of a blockade against walkers. Marco parked their truck at the opposite end of the city block. Everyone piled out of the vehicles and quietly got to work.

Francine, Juan, Lin and Marco lifted the sheet of steel out of the bed of the truck of Alexandria supplies and began wiring them to the exterior south and north sides of the trucks sealing gaps one by one from crawlers. Vincent and Esme headed toward a nearby parking lot to look for cars to hotwire to fortify the block from the south.

Mszizi, Taylor and Adam stood watch over the whole looking out for walkers lured to the activity.

Michonne and Jesus entered the first 2 story building at the south end of the block. It had been a coffee shop on the street level. Daryl and Rick quickly removed the plywood that blocked the entrance to the middle building, a tourist gift shop. Ian and Arturo entered the building at the north end of the block.

It took Michonne and Jesus the most effort to clear the coffee shop. A few walkers lurked in the seating area, behind the bar, and there were a couple in the bathroom. The floor was littered with squatter belongings, probably formerly owned by some of the very walkers they dispatched. When they finally made it to the 2nd floor they found a rooftop terrace, perfect look out for the marina.

Rick and Daryl's building was clear and untouched. Perhaps a boarded up business prior to the ZA. Each floor had a fireplace on either end of the space, they would have to work for the impending winter. The 2nd and 3rd floors once an office and storage would work nicely for sleeping quarters.

Ian and Arturo only found one walker on the main floor of the day spa they cleared. The second floor also clear with one fireplace on each floor. They joined Rick and Daryl back outside.

"Clear?" Rick nodded to the building as they came out.

"Si," nodded Arturo. "It's just a chick spa." Rick whispered to the men to clear the back alley behind the block.

Vincent and Esme rolled up in a small SUV and parked it to continue fortifications. Then headed back out. Rick whistled and held up 2 fingers. They had 2 hours.

Finally, after 36 minutes Michonne and Jesus appeared from the coffee shop. She walked over to Rick. "It's empty," Michonne declared, "no food either." He gave her a small pat on the rear. "Arturo found something you'll like."

For the next 2 hours, all the teams worked tirelessly to set up the perimeter, discard the put down walkers, secure the three buildings and the supplies. After sundown, they gathered for dinner. The tourist shop and spa were full of fancy scented candles so the won't have to waste many batteries or kerosene at this outpost and can instead enjoy their beans and pickled cabbage imagining a "Hawaiian breeze." While the groups sat among themselves, Jesus made sure to get them talking amongst each other by the end of the night. Rick and Michonne separated from the group early to enjoy that coastal vacation they promised themselves on the terrace of the coffee shop.

Taylor didn't sleep that first night. She stared out the window down at the marina watching the remaining docked ships and shipwrecks bob and sway gently with the tide. The calming scene occasionally disrupted by the flash of lookouts executing stray walkers. Just before sunrise, she awoke her boyfriend Adam. The two watched the colors appear over the bay. He put his arm around her shoulder as she began to cry. "You'll do great Tay," he whispered.

After breakfast of leftover beans and pickled cabbage, Taylor, Michonne, Richard, and Arturo headed to the marina to look for boats they could practice on. They'd need at least 2 possibly 3. Richard was excited to be at the water again. Pre-apocalypse he was a recreational deep sea fisherman. He'd chartered sailboats before, but had never been responsible for operating one. When Jesus told him about the opportunity his heart leaped at the idea. He said yes before Jesus could even finish the invitation.

Taylor couldn't help but feel like this was a demented version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. The most yachts were too big, some yachts were too fancy. She needed little yachts, that were just right and free of roamers chasing them. The 4 of them moved quietly up and down each pier. She stared only at the boats and never into the water, she wasn't ready to lose her nerve on the first day. When they finally came across a section of daysailers and small cruisers. She pointed them out to her 3 companions and whispered, "these are teachable."

Michonne nodded. She turned to Arturo and whispered, "we need to clear every boat on this pier."

Arturo silently pointed to the outpost signaling he'd go get clearing reinforcements. Ten minutes later he came back with Marco, Kai and Mszizi. Two by two the teams started at the far end of the pier searching each boat. After 20 minutes they met back up at the land side of the pier. The group found it more eerie that not a single team had found a single walker or dead body in any of the vessels of the half full pier.

Just add that to the list of things no one wants in the apocalypse Michonne thought to herself, pecan trees and day sailboats.

Taylor exhaled, she walked over to the nearest slip and stepped aboard the boat. Ian and Marco stayed on the pier as lookouts. Michonne, Mszizi, Arturo, Kai and Richard climbed aboard after her. They all huddled around Taylor, most standing several inches taller than her. She began in a quiet voice, "First, I'll point out the parts of the boat. This is the rudder…"

For the next 5 hours the volunteer sailors worked with Taylor learning the basics. Almost as a pop quiz when others came to join them she made her pupils teach the new faces what Taylor had covered. Kai showed D'Marcus how to secure the main sheet. Michonne showed Francine how the jib worked with the main sail. And so on.

After every sailor had practice operating and naming all the parts of the vessels Taylor nodded with satisfaction, "That's enough for today. Tomorrow we'll undock and learn about our engine, the wind."

When clearing the boats on the pier Richard made sure to look for fishing gear. He told Mszizi and Arturo about the gear as the group was breaking for the day. "I don't know about you, but I cannot eat another plate of beans for dinner. Would you both be up to some fishing? The sun will start setting soon so the fish will start biting."

Michonne shook her head at the conversation. She wasn't their keeper, if they wanted to risk pier fishing for their tastebuds, that was their prerogative. The men stayed behind to retrieve the fishing gear and try their luck.


	8. Chapter 8

_So I've been holding back on Richonne Smut, but the time has come._

* * *

"Are we gonna do this or what," Daryl asked Rick.

"Yeah, but it can't just be us and Jesus this time. We're gonna need some of them to come along too."

Daryl nibbled at his bottom lip, "who are you think'n about ask'n?"

"Vincent. You ok with that?" Rick needed Daryl's permission. While they had all been terrorized by the Saviors, Daryl had the worst of it.

"He got us here. Didn't he." Daryl said avoiding the question.

"Vincent will probably want to bring Esme. So to make it a 6 person team, I'm think'n Adam."

"So we heading out tonight or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. I want to review security with folks staying. If Chonne's gonna be on that damn boat all day, then I'll have to put Marco in charge of security," Rick didn't mean for his sincere opinion to be so evident. He had hoped Michonne would have tired of sailing camp a couple hours into it and appointed someone else. But, as always she was eager, committed and hadn't even come back in for lunch.

Just before dinner, Adam pulled Taylor aside, "Hey, you looked great out there today."

"I don't think your scope could show you all that. But it went OK." Adam leaned down and kissed her.

After a warm silence, Adam broke the news, "Rick asked me to go with him on the scouting trip." Taylor could feel the lump form in her throat. She tried to speak, but there just weren't any words. Finally, she wrapped her arms tightly around him and said the only thing that mattered, "I love you."

Rick joined Michonne's watch on the 2nd floor of the spa. He could tell by her relaxed shoulders that it was a quiet night. He pulled her locks to one side and started nibbling the exposed skin of her neck as she continued to monitor the streets from the window for a moment more before giving into Rick's distraction.

"How was it out there today," He whispered.

"Some really seemed to take to it. I don't think all of them are going to be capable of helping us cross the bay. But there may be enough to try."

Rick's hands lifted the hem of her shirt and caressed the soft skin of her waist. "Well, maybe the roads will work out."

Michonne turn in to face Rick. He kissed her deeply and pulled back to look at her beautiful face. "Gotcha somethin?" Michonne smiled with nostalgia and anticipation. He pulled a bottle of grapeseed massage oil out of his coat pocket.

"You found that downstairs," she smirked. He gave her another quick peck and grabbed a chair placing it at the window.

"Here you sit and keep your watch out the window." Michonne sat backward in the chair, her back to Rick and eyes on the street below. Rick grabbed another chair for himself. He oiled his hands a slowly started massaging Michonne's back. As he pressed firm and deep into her shoulders she exhaled deeply. "I thought you'd might be sore from today."

"I wasn't expecting to be."

"Well you were out there 5 hours."

"True. I didn't want to leave Taylor."

"Hmm," Rick replied unconvinced, but not wanting to discuss it. After several work overs of her upper back, Rick ran his hand full down her back and reached to her front, unbuttoning her pants. He oiled his hands again and massaged her lower back working his way to caressing her perfect ass.

Michonne had tried to remain in control, simply letting her muscles enjoy while she focused on her task, but when Rick thumbs circled her the lumbar in opposing motion, the intense release of tension shot straight up her spine voiding all thought. Her body instinctively leaned back into his hands as she lost her view of the street. She relaxed against him for a few moments. Then, realizing she was neither satiating her need for him nor successfully doing her job, she stood up shaking her unbuttoned pants to the floor.

She pulled Rick up into her and removed his coat. He quickly fumbled with his belt, the metallic clinking muffled between their close bodies. He leaned down and covered Michonne in hungry kisses sucking the air from her lungs. His pants and boxers fell to the floor. He stepped out of them as Michonne turned him to sit in her chair.

Rick firmly grabs at the back of Michonne's thighs as she steps in to straddle him. He pulls her into his lap. They make love smashed together close and deep. Rick releases one of her thighs and leans back to reach for her clit. His thumb still silky from the oil sends Michonne over the edge and as she comes undone. "Yes, babe. Cum for me," Rick watches her as she shudders in his hands. She exhales his name.

When he can feel her start to relax. He grabs both of her thighs again buries his face in her chest and pulls them back together. Her skin, her smell, her voice, her breath, he wants all of it. She laces her fingers through his hair, his hot breath racing on her skin. She leans her head down to whisper in his ear, "I need you." Her words break him open, he pulls out quickly and spills himself on her thigh.

She continues to stroke his hair as he recovers. She returns her gaze outside. His breath evens out. He looks up at his love just watching her. They are quiet for a while longer, but when Juan comes up to relieve Michonne he finds them where they started. Michonne standing at the window on watch. Rick behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. Both of them looking at the world below.

It's early when the scouting crew prepares to leave, the sun not yet appearing over the water. Adam and Taylor don't speak but just hold each other tightly. She wills herself not to cry. Jesus and Daryl finish putting the supplies in the SUV. Vincent and Esme climb into the 3rd row. Taylor cannot help but be envious they get to stay together.

Rick walks over to Michonne. "Be safe out there," he says nodding to the water.

She gives him a reassuring look. "You too," She replies giving him a love tap. The two part. Rick climbs in the back with Adam. Daryl and Jesus wave to Michonne. Michonne gestures at the men with an "I'm watching you" hand sign. They chuckle and drive away.


	9. Chapter 9

_I have updated the chapter adding the completion of the trip._

* * *

Getting out of Annapolis proved challenging. Military barricades popped up in several cross streets. Daryl had to keep the map open and lead Jesus block by block when walkers or barriers presented themselves. Adam's leg bounced nervously in the back seat. Vincent kicked his seat back, "Knock it out man. This shit ain't even started to get dangerous." Rick shot Vincent a "shut up or I'll make you" look. Vincent challenged Rick with a "you know I'm fucking right" look.

"Here, see that sign for Kent Island? That way man, that way," Daryl commanded.

When they got to the only bridge that could take them across the bay, they came to a halt. There was a multi-car pile up, blocking a path forward in all lanes, but also blocking in a large herd of walkers from exiting the bridge. The bridge growled.

Rick, Jesus and Daryl hopped out to assess. Daryl passed the binoculars to Rick.

"Shit," determined Rick.

"Don't think there's enough of us for this one Rick," said Jesus apologetically. Daryl prowled back and forth thinking. Then, he tapped Jesus's arm. "I think I gotta plan." The men turned toward him.

Daryl bolted back to his seat, grabbed his backpack and started digging. Out he pulled out some massage oil. "I brought this for camp fires." Then he pulled out a tee-shirt. "We got the long spear, some bottles. They're attracted to fire. We've seen it. We got 8 hours before sunset and we're surrounded by water. I say we burn them out."

Rick stared in awe at his brother. "Shit," he murmured again but this time humbly impressed. "We've probably got enough ammo to pick off any who escape." He looked at Jesus.

Jesus stared back at Daryl. "All we have is time," Jesus concurred. The men hopped back into the vehicle to confer with the others the plan.

The next day, the team decided to squat just north of Salisbury. "We can go on a run through town in the morning," Rick shared. "Y'all get some rest. You deserve it. I'll start the watch." Adam, still visibly shaken, approached Rick.

"Rick, I'll start the watch. I don't think I can sleep right now." Rick looked back at the young man, concerned. "You sure, Adam?"

"Yeah, I need this first shift. Someone can relieve me after dinner." Rick nodded and headed inside. Before yesterday, Adam had shot countless walkers, a person too. But he'd never thrown firebombs at a couple hundred walkers. Never attempted to sleep in a vehicle with 5 others people while utter chaos burned out as far as the eye could see. He'd never rolled over smoldering bodies in a truck hearing the cracks and crackles of their bones. The smell that lingered on his whole team, it was just too much. He was grateful he hadn't eaten today. His core trembled.

* * *

The morning of the 4th day at the marina was drowsy. A light fog covered the water, the group slept exhausted from their assignments. On the terrace of the cafe, Juan's blinks were long and heavy. During one of those long blinks he thought about a boat sailing into the marina. His eyes shot wide. That wasn't a daydream, he was watching a boat sail into the marina! _Shit._ Should he leave watch and wake up the others? _Shit._ Should he just shoot it down? _Shit!_ Juan ran down and next door to get Marco.

Marco and Ian stood halfway down the pier of the docking yacht, their guns drawn. Juan and D'Marcus stood at the land edge of the pier. Lin and Taylor were in the north watchpoint above the spa. Michonne and Arturo in the south watchpoint terrace. Mszizi, D'Marcus and Richard all ready to ambush from first-floor hiding places.

Pete Alston was terrified and ecstatic at the same time. He'd never seen so many living people together since...since before. As he approached the harbor he saw the change in the waterfront buildings. He had been watching the group through his binoculars run to their watch points and out to the pier. From all his years in the Navy and commercial fishing he knew not to run up with open arms, but that's what he wanted to do. He was deadly with a knife and out of bullets for his rifle, so that meant he'd need to approach them to discern their motive. He knew they weren't pirates because pirates met you in the water and didn't let you dock. So they were something else. Pete yelled from the edge of his boat, "Hello! Do you mind? I'm going to disembark. Please, don't shoot."

* * *

After the supply run through Salisbury the scout team headed on, Vincent and Esme took the front seats this time. They focused on secondary roads in order to get a sense of how they might get horses back. The crew was making good time, and made it to the bridge to Assateague State Park just before sun down.

Jesus scanned with the binoculars. The bridge looked clear. They crossed the bridge and began down the island. The roads were overgrown with tall grass in the asphalt cracks and creeper vines joining each median. No one had tried to pass through in quite a long time. The truck rolled along slowly.

A quarter of a mile in, just past the welcome sign they appeared. In the road lazily munching on some grass was a six member herd of horses, one clearly born that year. With the purple-orange sky behind them and the singing chorus of katydids, it was the most beautiful, tranquil sight any of them had seen.

They just stared for several minutes more. The horses were aware of the company because their ears moved in the direction of the truck but they otherwise seem unbothered by the visitors. "Well," exhaled Jesus finally.

"I'll be damned," said Daryl.

"It's just… unbelievable," said Esme.

The herd finally trotted along into the dense coastal forest. Adam was the first to return to reality, "guys, we cannot stay here overnight, it's just protected wetlands. There aren't really any buildings or supplies." Rick shook his head like waking from a dream. "He's right. Let's clear the visitor's center back on the mainland."

The next day the crew went on a supply run lead by Daryl and Adam. They looked for barns to raid for rope, harnesses, bridles and any other possible supplies. They dropped off the supplies at the visitor center. Daryl and Jesus then headed back out to track some dinner. Vincent and Esme headed out on foot too, over to the island to "scope the habitat" but really to have some beach time together.

The two lovelorn men were left to stand guard on the roof of the visitors' center and discuss the logistics of taming and steering horses. "We cannot go back home the way we came," said Adam. "We'll never get a herd pass what we had to weave through on the beltway."

"Let's just see how many we can actually find before we worry about the beltway," cautioned Rick. Adam agreed.

For the next three days, the crew spent the evenings eating like royalty and from all the game Daryl caught. They spent the days like silent cowboys, tracking, approaching and roping horses. They successfully roped one and lead it to a baseball field on the mainland.

Adam never left the horse after that as he worked on bonding. He slept with it in the covered dugout "stable." He bribed it with applesauce. He nudged it while it grazed in the field. By the time they brought him a second horse, he had Sailor in a halter and bridle. Adam was a true horse whisperer. Rick could see why Ezekiel had such a large stable before.

By the end of the week, Rick was exhausted. He didn't complain about his aching leg or tired muscles, but the crew was observantly gentle on him. He felt at times like he wasn't carrying his weight, but Adam dispelled that notion daily when he'd profusely thank Rick for bringing them out there. "It was Michonne's idea," he'd remind everyone sullenly.

By the end of the 2nd week, Adam could saddle ride Sailor and the three other horses, Blue, Hurricane, and Echo, were all bridled. Vincent and Esme hadn't spent more than two hours a day off the island. Everyone felt like they had gained ten pounds. Rick was homesick, and he had the team fully packed and ready to head out by 9am on the last day. The trip back was going to take at least twice as long which would give him plenty of time to figure out how to get Adam's horses past Annapolis.

* * *

In the almost 3 weeks since the team left for Assateague, the mood at the marina had turned from strained to jovial thanks to Pete. Richard had immediately won an invitation onto Pete's boat. The two sailed into the bay each day, while the others stayed back and learned from Taylor or searched Annapolis for supplies.

At night Pete told stories of his travels along the intracoastal waterway, the storms, the ghost ports he encountered, the crew he lost, and the pirates he'd engaged both before and after the infection. He was grateful to eat the pickled cabbage and beans while the rest ate the catch of the day. Food from the land, he'd never thought he'd taste it again.

That night, everyone was silent and attentive listening to Pete tell another story about getting the dead out of his fishing nets while trying to salvage his catch. The front door to the tourist shop was already open and figures were entering the room before anyone turned to look or grab weapons.

"What the fuck is going on," growled Rick. "Why is there no guard on the terrace? Where is the guard for the damn door?"

Jesus appeared from behind Rick with a "you poor fuckers" look. No one spoke, embarrassed. Rick looked haggard, covered in blood. He stared down everyone in the room, not seeing Michonne or Lin, but instead a new face. "And who the fuck are you?"

Before Rick could step further into the room, he could feel her arm wrap around his waist. "Easy now, tiger," she whispered into his ear. He could feel her smile on his earlobe. Then, Michonne spoke out loud to the room for Rick's benefit. "Lin got a bad cut on her arm while on her watch shift on the terrace. I was patching her up upstairs. I forgot to tell Marco to assign our backups. Sorry everyone."

The peace restored, Taylor stood up, "where's Adam? Where's the rest?"

"They're safe. They're in a barn south of town. We didn't want to risk bringing the horses into the city," reported Jesus.

"Horses," exclaimed Mszizi.

"Yes, just a few, well four," clarified Rick. "But Assateague still appears to be a sanctuary."

"Then, why all the blood," asked Taylor.

"The walkers saw dinner coming," joked Jesus. "We've been fighting them off every mile for the past 20 or so."

"Why don't we let them rest," announced Michonne. "D'Marcus, would you get Jesus a plate?" Then she grabbed her returned hero's hand and lead him upstairs to get changed.

"Rick," exclaimed Lin, "I thought I heard you downstairs! Welcome back."

"Thank you," Rick replied quietly feeling a little embarrassed now that his adrenaline was draining.

"Lin, Jesus is downstairs too. Check in on him. Can you make sure Rick and I have a little time," Michonne requested. Lin nodded and headed downstairs holding her bandaged left arm. Michonne saw the concern grow in Rick's face and she turned him to look at her. "She'll be ok," she said. Then, realizing herself a large smile spread across her face. She cupped his face and finally got to greet him. "I'm so glad to see you," she smiled. "Now, let me get a look at you."

As she got to work, Michonne started to update Rick, "His name is Pete. He's killed about 20 walkers. He's killed 4 men who tried to ambush his ship off the coast of Delaware. He sailed in two weeks ago and has been with us since. He was on a commercial fishing rig when it all went down. He's been on his own for a while, but staying on the water this whole time." She grabbed a hand towel that said "Life's a beach" and a bottle of water.

She dampened the towel and began to wipe the blood and dirt from his face, beard, and neck searching for scratches. She wanted to kiss him but she needed him just a little cleaner first. "We're pretty experienced on the boats now. We've even had a storm blow through and navigated at night and in fog."

He still hadn't said a word to Michonne. He felt disoriented to be looking at her, feeling her touch. He'd spent the last day and a half fighting. He wasn't sure if they had walked through a herd or if the sound of the horses rang the dinner bell as Jesus had said, but a steady stream of walkers attacked them for miles and miles. And before that, he'd spent the last two weeks pining for her while he pretended to sleep. He was so happy to be listening to her like their usual evening routine.

"Ian, Mszizi, and Juan have had a few good runs. Found some pharmacies, weapons from a military substation, and a bike store. So Carl will be happy." By candlelight, Rick watched her beautiful brown eyes study his face and his skin. He leaned his head from side to side resting in her palms as she examined his ears and neck. "We've seen an uptick in walker activity during the day. They are not bunching up yet, but they know we're here."

When she seemed to finish with his face and start on his hands, he leaned down and devoured her lips. He lingering on her soft, full top lip. His favorite. He removed is gore-soaked jacket and threw it to floor. He pulled her into him, nestling his nose behind her ear at her nape as he loved to do when they are sleeping. He breathed her in deeply, "God, I missed you."

* * *

The next morning, Jesus sat at breakfast with the others. He talked about the island, about Adam's amazing work and about the impending problem of how to get the horses home.

Pete sat listening, contemplating. After his introduction to their leader last night he wasn't sure if he needed to move on. Had he not made new friends he'd be near Charleston right now. He didn't begrudge Rick's words. Once he saw the man's reaction to Michonne, Pete knew why their scene of comradery was so jarring. Still, he hated that he was a part of the security failure and perhaps distracting Rick's group from their mission. But, now as Jesus spoke he realized he could help.

Rick and Michonne woke up on top of their sleeping bags, Rick's clothes still filthy. What started as a brief rest together turned into a 12-hour pass out. He kissed her neck which caused her to stir. "You stay," he offered, "I've gotta talk to Jesus." Michonne rubbed her eyes, "I"m up. I'm coming with you." When they got downstairs, no one was around except Juan on door watch. "They're all down at the marina except for Mszizi who's on north watch and Marco who's on south. Rick nodded an acknowledgment, inhibited by the overcorrection to his flare-up the night before. Then, they headed down to the marina.

Michonne and Rick could see Taylor's practice crews in the harbor. At the far end of the marina, standing on a twin hull catamaran, Jesus and Pete were studying the main compartment. "If we took out these banquettes and the kitchenette, would this be enough for those horses," asked Pete.

"How many crew members will you need," replied Jesus.

"Four. And from what I've seen these past couple of weeks we've got it. Richard, me, Michonne, and Arturo can handle it."

Jesus looked out at Rick on the pier, "Rick, what do you say?"

Rick looked at Michonne who gave him one of those silent confirmations. And for the first time since the war Rick smiled. "Let's go tell Daryl."

* * *

A week later, a huge welcoming committee lead by Rick, Adam and Vincent watched the new renamed S.S. Annapolis sail into port near Alexandria. Once the ship docked, Adam lead the horses off. He passed Rick on the dock and looked up at him beaming with gratitude. "Hey," Rick said quietly, "once these are settled, you up for going again?" Adam nodded, "yes, sir," and pushed on to get the horses home to The Kingdom with his group.

The first thing he noticed about Michonne was the sway of her hips and she walked up the dock to him. She was enjoying this. "Easy now, tiger," Rick said to the radiant woman beaming in front of him. He pulled the pack off of her shoulder and put it on his. She kissed him and stroked his stubbled jaw. "You've had time to shave I see, while I've been stuck with these sweaty men and smelly animals for a week."

"It's all for you, darlin," he said in his best Southern twang. "Next time, you'll have better company, I promise."

"Next time," Michonne inquired.

"You wanted an island vacation, right."

"Mmmm, yes. But this time not with 20 others."

For the rest of the winter, small crews traveled on the catamaran from Alexandria to a western port of the Eastern Shore. With a couple capable people in each community, they all supplied crew members. They would spend two weeks at Assateague catching and taming the already docile horses and then bring them back on the boat. By the end of the winter, 18 horses had made the journey.

Richard and Arturo never returned to their communities, reignited in their passion for the water. And Pete needed them on his boat. The three men set up a new trade point for the communities, fish.


	10. Chapter 10

Aside from the obvious security risks, there was another major downside to Carl's bike group, winter. They stretched their rides into what was probably early November but then were shut down for months as it was too bitterly cold to bike 2 hours. Having a few horses were nice, but like gas powered cars, were reserved for community business, not just visiting friends because you felt like it.

Carl hated the loss of phones and even mail now that the people he cared about were no longer together. He did ask folks traveling to Hilltop to carry letters and trade comics, but winter was quiet. He was lucky to catch someone more than once a month. Thankfully, Daryl was guaranteed to travel up once a month to consult with Jesus about any shortages and needed runs. And he could trust Daryl.

The prisoner had mocked him for his "fucking weak Big Wheels." Said that when his people came home with "that shit" that he threw them out, the bikes and the people. He also said that "these toys made Carl a pussy" for "letting his dad lead month-long fuckery but leave him watching Judith." Carl's protests about not actually being responsible for Judith anymore didn't matter to the prisoner or himself. The point was taken that Carl's desires in the new world were second place to the desires of his dad.

All Rick had to do was read a passage out of a book and it turned into a huge deal. Enid had written that Rick had even made Maggie upset over it to get his way. But Carl comes up with an idea that does not hurt anyone or anything, makes certain routes a little safer in fact? Well, he's a kid.

As winter wore on, Carl didn't talk about the bikes anymore. Instead, he was Tobin's hardest worker on the construction team. Carl had practically built the house on construction site 3 on his own. He hadn't totally given up on bike travel in his mind, remembering the rush of his road bike. But, he knew no one outside of himself was really supportive of the idea.

While admittedly not in favor, Michonne had noticed Carl's silence on the matter. The endeavor to travel seemed important to Carl, so she wanted to support it even if she didn't like it. Yet, he seemed surprisingly underwhelmed when the Annapolis crew brought back all they could from a bike shop.

Michonne tried to talk to Carl about it, but he just said, the winter weather had made him realize it wasn't a viable transportation method. While rational, the statement seemed too rational. Where was the eager negotiator that had an answer for every contingency? Carl didn't sound practical now, he sounded almost defeated.

She was surprised when she found herself cheering him up about it, "well, just because they have seasonal use doesn't mean the idea has no merit, Carl. It was great, is great, that you are looking for all possible ways for our communities to stay connected."

"But, the guys who ride with me, they've lost interest. They cannot take off 4 months learning from Hilltop. Ken let Josh stay at Hilltop last month since there was little choice. And Scott says he's stopping with the blacksmith permanently."

Michonne nodded and rubbed her son's arm supportively. "There will be others who will want to try again, you'll see."

"People say it's stupid."

"Who," Michonne questioned quickly with a little too much protective anger in her voice.

"No one important, just that I'm wasting my time with them."

"Well if it's no one important, then their opinion doesn't matter. Let them try to build what you built. Right?"

Carl smiled at Michonne knowingly. Nevertheless, Carl still kept to himself about the bikes. No need to drum up interest when no one could practice, he told himself.

—

When Michonne's tower shift ended she chatted briefly with Francine who came to relieve her. Like her earlier conversation, Francine also seemed to be dour.

"It's just all starting to hit me," Francine confessed, "The false peace we had before, it felt real. Then all the shit happens at once, Pete, Reg, Wolves, walkers, Saviors. And now? It's quiet again, almost peaceful, except so many are dead. It scares me, like I can't trust it."

Michonne frowned, realizing that by making her community fighters and survivors that also meant they'd have the same horrible memories and creeping fears. She put her hand on Francine's shoulder. I'm going to ask you what Deanna asked me, "what do you want for the rest of your life? What do you want for you?"

Francine looked up at her dazed and blinking, "we get to think that way again?"

"Yes," Michonne answered sympathetically, "yes, we do. Look at all the good you've done Francine to build up Alexandria again and again. You're brave for everyone else. You know what life is now, the good and the bad. Hold the good. Be brave for you."

She gave a final squeeze to Francine's shoulder as she left the tower. She knew she'd given Francine a major thinking assignment for the shift. It surprised Michonne that Maggie popped into mind as she headed home. She had sounded like Maggie up there. Her friend would have been proud.

Michonne walked into her house to the smell of herbed fish. The new staple to their diet still tasted like a delicacy. She was overcome with a craving for lemon and surprisingly depressed when she realized she'd never taste any again. Now it was her turn to be dour as she walked into kitchen following her nose.

To her shock and amazement, it was Daryl cooking the fish. In a pan. With spices. Michonne just stood there awestruck. Daryl saw her out of the corner of his eye. "What," he protested, "you think my dumb ass don't know how to cook?"

"Oh, no I've seen you cook. With fire and sticks and cans," Michonne teased.

"Yeah, and? You sayin you didn't like my cookin out there," Daryl inquired.

"I ate it didn't I? You didn't hear me complain," she smiled.

"I didn't cook when we got here because I don't know nothin about casseroles and Carol…" He didn't finish that thought. "But fish? Shit, I know how to cook fish. I've had to feed myself on what I could catch since I was… 7." He trailed off but allowed himself to finish that thought.

Michonne heard Rick come in. "Damn, Michonne, dinner smells amaz…" Rick turned the corner to see what Michonne was looking at. Rick to was struck dumb, mouth agap.

"Nah, man. Not you too," Daryl scoffed.

"Brother, I have never, ever…"

"Chonne," Daryl interjected, "You enjoying those new love handles on your boy?" Daryl nodded toward Rick.

"Hey, now…"

Michonne laughed. "Why yes Daryl, I am," she played along.

"Then don't forget who's cookin out on the island put them there," Daryl smirked.

"Haha, fuck you," Rick pouted. Michonne stepped over and rubbed Rick's back with feigned sympathy.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, causing Rick to startle. Daryl licked his fingers and then whipped them clean on his pants walking toward the front door. _Yep, it's still Daryl_ , Rick chuckled to himself. Michonne looked over Rick's shoulder to see who was there.

Jesus and Enid walked in. "Come on in man, you're just in time," Daryl welcomed them. "Hey ya'll, hope you don't mind I invited company tonight," Daryl grinned. Then, he yelled up the stairs, "Carl, dinner, man. Come get it."

"To what do we owe this pleasure," Michonne beamed at Jesus walking toward him for a hug.

"Daryl and I are going on a run tomorrow. He said we could come on in tonight and head out early," said Jesus.

"And you, young lady," Rick inquired thinly attempting to hide his smirk.

Enid stuttered. Before she could come up with an excuse everyone heard the loud, fast clumsy footstep of Carl coming down the stairs. He looked up expecting to see an empty living room only to find Enid standing in front of him. The shock nearly made him fall down.

"Shit," he tumbled. "Uh, uh, hey. Hey, Enid." Carl tried to recover. Carl scanned the room trying to get his bearings but all the faces were on him. He turned red with embarrassment.

Blessedly, the crashing sound of silverware landing on the counter followed by plates made everyone turn to the redneck in the kitchen. "Come on, now. Before it gets cold," Daryl did his best grandma impression. But of course it would be serve yourself. He wasn't about to break out any damned dinner platters, guests or none.

Enid and Carl sat beside each other at dinner, so they wouldn't have to directly look at each other as they traded waves of blushed mortification, embarrassment, and excitement. The adults did the best they could to draw the two into the conversation. But after short replies, the two returned to blushing silence. After Carl finished his dinner, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and placed it in his lap. He took the opportunity under the table to rest his hand on Enid's hand.

 _God, those two are like a Victorian romance novel_ , Michonne thought to herself. But then she thought about her and Rick's "courtship" out there on the road before Alexandria and she realized where Carl had picked up his moves, or lack thereof. She sighed sympathetic to the young would-be-couple's plight. _Let'em take their time_ , she conceded. She knew the payoff would be all the more sweet that way.

"So Carl, Enid, I assume you two are going to have a slumber party out here in the living room," Rick asked rhetorically. Since the Saviors, accommodations in Alexandria weren't as plentiful and Rick sure as shit wasn't going to allow Enid and Carl to share his twin bed, no matter how petrified his son looked around this girl. "Y'all can hang out after you clean up the kitchen."

Since their usual couch routine was upended by teenagers, Michonne and Rick headed to their bedroom early. They lay resting in each other's arms updating one another on the day's events. Michonne mentioned Francine's mood and how it might be time to check-in with all the surviving Alexandrians to see how they were coping in this new world. Rick mentioned Eugene's concern that they were running out of lead again.

Then they broke into a comfortable silence. Rick massaged Michonne's scalp as her head rested on his chest. Michonne traced circles on Rick's toned abs. Then, feeling mischievous she danced her finger along his waistband and pinched the non-existent fat on his sides.

"Hey," Rick yelped. He began to tickle her relentlessly. She squirmed reflexively at his teases. She buried herself into his side, he covered her with his arm. He was her tickle attacker and her shield.

"Rick," she muttered breathless between laughter. He accepted her surrender and pulled her up to face him. She stared smiling, still panting, into his twinkling blue eyes. She leaned in and nibbled on his bottom lip. Tonight was going to be an extended game of cat and mouse he realized. _Challenge accepted_ , he thought, as he captured her full lips in his.

Carl handed Enid the last dripping wet dish. She dried it slowly and placed it the cabinet. They had spent the last 20 minutes in near silence speaking only to show Enid where this plate or that knife went. Now, she placed the towel on the countertop and turned to face Carl. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she was last in this kitchen. And one thing was certain lots of lives had passed.

"How's little Hershel," Carl asked.

"Cute. Sleeps a lot."

"Lucky. Judith never slept a lot, ever actually."

"Oh, shoot," Carl exclaimed suddenly he bolted toward the coat closet to grab his jacket. "I gotta go. I gotta a chore."

"What? We've just done a bunch of chores. Can't it wait till tomorrow?"

"No, it can't. You can come with me if you'd like."

Enid shrugged. It appeared she had little choice.

Carl walked over to Olivia's house. Enid felt a weird deja vu' as they waited outside her old front door after knocking.

"You're late," Olivia glared at Carl, "Oh, Enid."

Carl took the bag of jarred pickled cabbage, applesauce, and beans from Olivia's hand. "You can wait here if you'd like," he told Enid.

"Where are you going," Enid asked a bit perturbed. Olivia raised a questioning eyebrow at Carl.

"Come on, let's go," He told her.

Carl stopped outside the entrance to the jail. He nodded at Rosita. Rosita, shook her head at the time and the guest as she unlocked the door. Enid grabbed Carl's arm pulling him back as he approached the door. "What are you doing!" She whispered accusingly.

"It's feeding time," he replied exasperated.

"And you do it?"

"Just dinner," Carl replied hurriedly, "and I almost forgot tonight. You can come in with me if you'd like. He'd like to meet you."

Enid's eyes grew wide with horror. She shot silent dagger glares at Carl.

"Fine," he huffed, "I'll be out soon."

Carl stepped inside. He rushed as he dumped out the jarred food onto the plastic tray and shoved it into the prisoner's cell.

"About goddamn time," the entitled asshole said, "where the fuck have you been?"

"Fuck you," Carl answered. In one swoop, he tossed all the now empty jars back into the bag and stormed toward the door.

"No, wai..," the asshole replied. But Carl shut the door behind him before he would listen to anymore groveling.

Rosita locked the door behind Carl and he walked across the street to Enid who was hugging herself.

Carl walked past her toward Olivia's. She turned to follow him shivering with the desire to flee. Carl placed the bag on Olivia's doorstep not bothering to knock and kept moving. Finally two houses down, Enid couldn't help herself, she blurted out, "Why, Carl?"

"Cuz he's gotta eat."

"No, why you," she hissed.

"Cuz," He paused, realizing that answer wasn't going to cut it, he kept walking.

Enid just shook her head over and over. "All he took from us. From Maggie. He almost killed your dad!"

Carl didn't reply, he knew there wasn't anything to say. When they got inside they headed to the couch. Carl handed a throw to Enid so that she could warm up. They both sat down and stared at the coffee table.

"My dad saved him," Carl finally said quietly. "No one else wants him alive. No one else was volunteering. I had to."

"But, I also wanted to," he added. "Mikey, Josh, they all went back to forgetting almost immediately. My dad can't forget and I don't want to either." Carl paused again.

"Why does your dad let you?"

"He doesn't know, I think. I started while he was on bed rest. And it was all routine by the time he came back to the helm. I don't think he wants to know, really, or otherwise he or Michonne would have said something to me about it by now."

"Carl, you said he wanted to meet me. You're talking to him?" Carl tried to will himself invisible.

"That's why I wanted to come to yo.. to Hilltop. I knew you wouldn't like who I am here, now." Enid grabbed for his hand as a counter argument as Carl continued, "But, it's too cold and too dangerous and everyone was gone for a while and…" Carl didn't finish. He knew she didn't want to hear the prisoner's opinions.

Finally, Enid looked at him straight on. "I miss you too, Carl."

"You have new friends up at Hilltop. I saw you."

Enid shook her head, "They don't know me. They see me with Maggie. They don't see that I was alone till I met you." Carl looked away.

"Yeah, Olivia proved that one tonight."

Enid chuckled, "I know, right. She didn't even say hi. She didn't say anything."

They grinned at each other.

Carl's grin faded. "I feel stuck," he confessed finally. Enid didn't have a solution, or an answer, or a white horse to whisk him away on. So, she rested her head on his shoulder and held his hand, till she fell asleep.

Enid awoke lying down on the couch covered in a blanket. Carl must have tucked her in after she fell asleep last night. She looked around for him. She didn't see him till she almost stepped on him lying just at the foot of the couch on the floor covered poorly by the throw blanket.

She wasn't surprised by his mood last night. It was why she insisted she come down with Jesus. She could tell in his last letter that something was wrong. She hadn't realized that he had made a new friend of the worst kind. She stepped over him lightly to head to the bathroom.

When she got back, Carl, Michonne, and Judith were up and at the dining room table. Michonne was replacing Carl's eye bandage. Enid came close to watch. "You don't have to," Carl said.

"No, I want to," Enid protested. Michonne watched the two of them knowingly. She removed Carl's bandages and applied ointment slowly, in deliberate motions. She was silently teaching Enid what to do but trying not to draw too much attention to that fact and embarrass the two. Then, Michonne got up to wash her hands again. Carl sat there feeling naked in front of Enid. He watched Judith eat her breakfast.

When Michonne sat down again she continued methodically replacing the bandages, even boldly looking behind her to make sure Enid was watching. She was. "You are free to go," she told Carl finally, giving him a mortifying hug.

Carl grabbed an apple from the table and tossed it to Enid. "Let's go. I have something to show you." So far, Carl is 0 for 2 in the surprises department, she thought to herself.

Carl, reading her face, finally offered, "no, it's not like that." And he walked her over to construction site 3 to show her the house he had built.


	11. Chapter 11

In February, Dwight and Vincent came to Alexandria to speak to Rick and Eugene. Dwight really wanted to just speak to Eugene, but he needed a geek translator. That and he hadn't gotten over Eugene's ambush survival technique at Dwight's expense.

"What can we do for you gentlemen," Eugene inquired hiding his sarcasm in his deadpan voice.

"The Sanctuary has come to depend on the deliveries we get from Pete, I'm sure y'all have too. The fish ain't keeping though and we're running out of salt. We've tried going on runs for it, but clearing grocery stores for enough salt for just the next delivery, if we're lucky, ain't worth it. We've already lost someone for some damn salt."

"What do you have in mind," Rick asked.

"We're not exactly sure. There's 'sea' salt and we've got access to an ocean now," said Vincent.

"A saltworks. You aim to create a saltworks," asked Eugene.

"I guess. We just knew, you'd know what to do Eugene. I mean you designed an ammunitions plant for Christsakes."

Rick looked at Eugene with raised eyebrows signaling this was his call.

"Well, it appears as though you are in need of my unique services. Isn't it advantageous that you didn't beef me for the walkers," he glares at Dwight. Dwight rolls his eyes, leans back and unconsciously rests his hand at his crotch.

Eugene notices the flinch to his great satisfaction. "If I'm going to be distracted from the foundry, designing this for you, then by good rights you will need to do something for me."

"What are your terms," spit Dwight.

"Lead, 100 pounds. Every two weeks."

Dwight was about to answer when Eugene cut in.

"I was not done. I was pausing for dramatic effect. Your kind seems to appreciate that. We also want 40% of the saltworks production once it's operational."

"100lbs of lead, every two until we have operational salt production. The lead is our payment for the plans. We'll give you 30% salt production for one year if Alexandria helps us build it," Dwight counters.

"30% for two years if we help build it, but the Saviors operate it," Rick countered. Dwight nods. Rick turns to Eugene.

"When I get my first delivery of lead, you will get your plans," confirms Eugene. All the men stand.

"Dwight, would you hang back, there's something I'd like to discuss with you," Rick said, "Eugene, take Vincent to visit Michonne. We'll be done shortly." Eugene paused for a moment, it had been a long time since he'd been dismissed. But, he complied and showed Vincent the way out.

Dwight smirked when he and Vincent mounted their horses to head home. "What," inquired Vincent.

After about a mile Dwight finally spoke, "Eugene."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Dwight mocked, "we know what they need now to stay relevant in trade. We'll get our salt, they'll get their lead and we'll be square." He outright chuckled this time.

Vincent nodded. He'd have his sewer crew get it tonight. Vincent ignored Dwight's grim tone. Dwight was right to stockpile what their trading partners needed and leverage it, anything more than that, well, Dwight was no Negan.

* * *

Rick called a meeting of the community in the church.

"Thank you all for showing up today and thank you to the members of our security team currently on watch who cannot be here right now. Folks, I'm not good at talks, we all know this." There were a few muffled snickers in the audience.

"But, I wanted to call us all together today to recognize that we've been at peace for 6 months now. In these past 6 months, we've expanded our agriculture thanks to Francine and Josh, and their teams. We've transported horses back from the coast thanks to Michonne and Juan. We've rebuilt thanks to Aaron, Tobin, and their teams. We've shown our humanity our enemy thanks to Olivia, Gabriel, and their folks. We're prepared to defend ourselves and our neighbors thanks to Eugene, Rosita, and their crews. I'm saying all this folks because I want to point out the hard work we've all done after the darkest time in Alexandria." Rick turned and looked at the wall of names.

"But I would be remiss if I forgot to mention the one person who's shown us all how to pull together. Carl," Rick looked straight at his son, "I know I speak for at least Aaron, Tobin, Olivia, Rosita, Michonne, and myself when I say thank you, son." Carl glanced at Michonne in disbelief. He saw her beaming at him with watery eyes. "Carl, you've sought out how to help Alexandria recover in every way. We all owe you a debt of gratitude young man." Tobin and Aaron turned around to smile and nod affirmations to Carl. Carl's senses vibrated in embarrassment and appreciation, he could hardly hear with the humming in his ears. Finally, Judith innocently shouted what everyone was thinking, "Yaaaaaaay. Goo job, Coorl!" And she patted him on the leg. The crowd chuckled.

Rick smiled at her and moved on, "In a couple weeks, it will be time to get started again in the greenhouse and see if anything we found in the nursery it's going to work. We've also gotten word from the Kingdom that a herd has formed in between our two communities. So, I'm looking for volunteers to help clear that up. Dwight paid us a visit this week he wants help to build a saltworks that will preserve the fish we're all picking up oceanside. Eugene is designing it." Rick paused.

"And finally, the communities have developed a new policy of free movement. Members of the Kingdom, Hilltop, the Sanctuary, or Alexandria are free to relocate among the communities. We all do equal enough trade to support all populations. So, starting in March, expect some new neighbors. Now folks know that if they move here, they'll be expected to fight and contribute. We all know that's our reputation. Rosita's already developing a training program for new arrivals." Rick cleared his throat nervously. "But, that also means that for folks here who are looking for something different, you're welcome to at the other communities too." Rick relaxed a little when no one jumped up and volunteered to be the first to leave. "Ok, that's all I got. Now, Francine and Olivia want to talk about the new community idea."

Rick scooped up a wandering Judith and sat down beside Carl. He gave a quick pat on Carl's knee and whispered, "I meant every word." Carl smiled again briefly.

Carl felt torn. It's clear that Alexandria loved him, but as he had told Enid a couple weeks prior he didn't love Alexandria. He had done all of that work to not have to think about these walls, the names on them, and the loved ones outside of them. But apparently the more he tried to gain skills and knowledge that could extricate himself from his suffocation, the more irreplaceable he was becoming. He slumped in his chair uncertain of what it all meant.

Francine's soul searching had led her to a good idea. She wanted to bond as a community. Part of the old Alexandria was the dinner parties at the Monroe's home. They seemed stupid now, a holdover from before the infection. But the camaraderie was real, the conversations. She remembered the affect Pete Alston had on everyone in Annapolis. She wanted that for Alexandria. And that's what she told Michonne and Olivia. To feel like she was really living again she wanted communal gathering spaces and opportunities to just be together.

As lucky as they all were with Alexandria, it was built to be a D.C. bedroom community, not a self-contained life. Michonne nodded, realizing that however much she hated the aesthetics of the prison it did insist on social interaction. Your options were your cell or seeing other people's faces. Francine's longing had pointed out a glaring problem that if you are going to be putting down the dead all day, and maybe a few people too, that you needed somewhere to go that night besides back to your empty house.

The idea was to remove the pews from the church. That way the space could serve multiple functions. "So we're looking for folks to help remodel the inside here. Juan and Gabriel have already volunteered," said Olivia.

"And we're also looking for a few extra people to go on runs for chairs and tables with Aaron and me," Francine reported.

"Then, we'll need help with restarting book club and other activities," Olivia offered, "Rosita has recommended, em, _Guns, Germs, and Steel_. I'm still taking suggestions."

* * *

The Saviors returned a week later bearing gifts. "Well, this is a welcome sight," snickered Gabriel as he let the men pass through the gate. Eugene examined the chunks of old pipes. He looked up a Rick and nodded in an overly ceremonial way, "this is acceptable for our purposes. I am prepared to unveil my plans." Everyone exhaled exasperatedly before they had even begun.

Eugene laid out the plans on his dining room table. "It's quite simple really, the salt marshes near Wallop Island provide the salinity adequate for efficient water evaporation and ample salt production. Additionally, being once a government controlled island there should be adequate fortifications and structures for protection and production. Here is the supplies list, the blueprints, the instructions and the book."

"The book," Vincent asked incredulously. "You mean all you did was read a book?"

"That is not all I did, I gave you the location, lists, and plans as well. It is my advantage that I am well read, logical and actually do visit the library in town." They all stared down at the book, _Salt_.

Rick added, "when you are ready, if you need it, we will send a couple folks with you to help clear and build. Scott has already agreed."

Dwight flipped through the plans, "everything does seem to be in order. Vincent and Esme will lead our crew. Apparently, they cannot get enough of the shore. If this location turns out to be what Eugene says it is, we'll create a permanent outpost there."

Rick flinched just the slightest as the thought of the Saviors permanently expanding, but a year-round saltworks was going to be necessary. "We'll see you in a couple weeks then, with the lead."

* * *

"No, Carl, you're not going." Rick was furious.

"Yes, Dad, I am." The negotiator was done. He was 17 years old, had spent the last 7 months working harder than anyone else in Alexandria, and he deserved this.

Scott just stood there silently pleading for this all to be over. He had approached Carl earlier that morning asking for some bikes and carts for his upcoming trip to help build the saltworks with the Saviors. He figured he could use them for hauling small supplies instead of always hunting for cars, and he wasn't about to get onto a horse. Francine had told him what had happened to Rick and the crew when they were driving the horses back the first time. He had cycled with Carl all fall and knew this was the opportune time to use them.

Of course when he explained to Carl his need for the equipment Carl's eye lit up like a firecracker. "I'll come too. I can help."

And now here the three of them were and Rick looked at Scott with murder in his eyes. Scott was fairly sure he'd live, but started to fear he'd be sent away to live with the Saviors permanently after this.

"Carl, we need help in the greenhouse," Rick countered.

"There will always be work here that needs doing. I've done a little bit of all of it. You know I'm the right person to build this thing with the Saviors, dad. You know it."

"You are my son." Rick stepped back nearly biting through his bottom lip. He couldn't decide what to do next. There was no talking to Carl, nothing persuasive to say, he could see it in his eye. The prison was already otherwise occupied and physically restraining him would only last until so long. His mind raced. If he could go, or Michonne, then maybe. But Scott? Scott was a nice guy, but he wasn't family. Was it too cruel to name drop Enid? He weighed this idea, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Scott saw Rick thinking and for sure knew he was doomed. Then Carl turned to him, "Scott, I catch up with you in the morning. You don't have to stick around now." Rick looked up at him with the same murderous look, no more, no less, so Scott decided to take up Carl's offer.

When Scott had left, Carl turned to his dad and lunged at him for a hug. Rick unconsciously threw his arms around his son and squeezed him tight. He was completely disoriented. Carl said into Rick's shoulder, "I know you are scared for me dad. But just like you told me before, I am never safe. Not with the Saviors, not on the road," he looked up at his father now, "and not here."

Rick pulled away. Carl continued, "think of this like college, I'm going off to learn something, build something, and in a few months, I'll be back."

"Home," Rick said.

"Yes, dad, I'll come home."


	12. Chapter 12

Michonne insisted on being part of the crew that helped deliver the saltworks construction team and supplies to the bay port even though Vincent and Esme were now just as capable as she at crossing the bay. She helped unload all the supplies from the boat and onto the obscured truck they left at the port.

When it was time to go, Michonne pulled Carl aside. She wanted to hug him, kidnap him, and bring him home. Carl could see it. Instead, Michonne pulled out of her pack a gift for him. Carl unwrapped the rag to reveal a watch that looked very similar to his dad's. Its metal wristband was weighty as Carl slipped it on his wrist. Unlike Rick's watch, Carl's watch had day and date dials. Michonne reached for his wrist and pointed to this feature of the watch.

"67 days, Carl. The Saviors have 67 days to return you home. If we don't see you by sundown, your father and I are heading back here and killing everyone." Rick had been just as explicit with Dwight and Vincent when he informed the men that Carl was going.

Carl knew he was putting his own life at risk with this trip. It wasn't until this moment that he realized he just might be putting everyone else's life at risk too. Carl grabbed his mom's hand with both of his. "Thank you. I'll miss you too." Then let go and rested his hand on his other gift, a red handled machete. Michonne fought back a sob as she saw the pose in the young Grimes.

She then walked over to the Scott, Vincent, and the other Saviors to say her goodbyes. Scott noted that the only difference between the murder look on Michonne's face now and Rick's face earlier was that Michonne's eyebrows said _please. Please, don't make me murder you._ Then, she turned to the returning vessel and barked, "let's go." As she sailed away, her eyes did not leave the port and her boy until the shoreline looked like a jagged line just above the horizon.

Carl tried to fight back the feeling that he was now a liability to the group. They were all on Rick's clock now and if Carl was stupid, they'd all pay. He shook his wrist to feel his new watch twist back and forth. Vincent called him over and he hopped into the truck next to Scott and the crew headed across the peninsula.

Just as Vincent had suspected, the trip to the coast was quiet. Overgrown farmland and scattered walkers. The truck stopped to scan the marshes and barrier islands before crossing over. He, Esme, and Mszizi didn't recognize any structure or items that looked like squatting or community. "Let's try it," Esme encouraged.

The access road across the islands, if one could call it that, was nearly washed out. The most accurate way to guess what was just sand and what was sand covered road was the dune grasses hadn't yet grown on the inch deep sand that covered the road. When they got to the former marine research field station that Eugene had mapped out for them it was still standing, but covered in creeping vines.

"Alright, everybody out. Let's clear this two story building first," Vincent directed. Jennifer headed straight for the door labeled janitorial closet and found a master set of keys. The building appeared to be a dormitory designed motel style according to the rooms on the first floor. The first floor was uninhabitable. A storm or storms had flooded it and all the rooms had a quarter inch of standing water. Mold grew up the walls and covered the furniture.

The second floor was dry but musty smells lingered from being shut up above the rotting below. "Open all the windows and doors, we'll air them out," said Scott. We can barricade the stairs and sleep out here in the breezeway.

"Scott, Mszizi, and Jennifer get the supplies we need out of the truck and secured upstairs. Carl, Esme and I are going canvassing," said Vincent. Once the trio approached the next building Vincent answered the open question, "you have that machete, get the vines on the door." Inside, the building appeared to be the research lab. The floors near the entrance did have green stains indicating water had gotten in at one point, but as pervasive as the dormitory. They banged on doors as they continued down the halls, no walker sounds. The laboratory supply room was a goldmine. Buckets, tub, trays, tubes, filters, chemicals. They could definitely start an operation with this and what they brought.

They continued on finding useful items within the other buildings, especially the dining hall. The library was on slightly higher ground and had survived unflooded. No walkers appeared in or near any of the buildings. Jennifer found a calendar that showed the facility was only open specific weeks of the year when researchers came to visit. So it had not been in use when the infection claimed everyone.

They all slept in the breezeway that night listening to the distant waves in awe that this place had been waiting just for them.

The next morning Vincent handed out assignments. Carl and Mszizi were sent to get a lay of the land. "Here are binoculars. Go find that tower and figure out where all the walkers are and if any other structures look interesting to scavenge."

They walked a few miles down the island till they came to the tower. It appeared to have been a communications or research tower. Mszizi signaled that he'd approach the tower from the north and Carl should take the south, Carl nodded.

Carl started to circle the tower when he heard the familiar sound of a gun cock. He turned around slowly to see a man in his 20's pointing a rifle at him from about 15 feet. He had trimmed sandy colored hair, brown eyes, and no facial hair. _He has shelter._ He was wearing a thick gray jacket with emblems on it, which had to be for protection against walkers because it was too hot to justify wearing such an item. _He's resourceful._ The sleeves of the jacket didn't appear to have any stains from walker encounters on it. _He's not killed many, if any, walkers at close range._ On top of the thick jacket, he also had on a bullet proof vest. _He's never killed anyone and hasn't seen a human in a long time. Otherwise, he'd know we all shoot for the head now no matter if you are dead or alive._ With this, Carl spoke.

"Hello, I'm Carl Grimes. Would you like to tell me your name?" The man didn't answer.

"I suggest you lower your gun, I am not alone. If my companion sees you threatening me, he will kill you."

"How do you know I'm alone?"

"I don't. But, I haven't reached for my gun. I'd much rather talk than watch you die. Please, lower your gun."

"Talk about what, exactly," asked the man calmly.

"How it is that we are both still alive? Why we are both standing here? What we might be able to do for each other? But we can't till you lower your gun."

Suddenly, gunshots rang out. Carl dived for cover in the dune grass and grabbed his gun. The man dropped his rifle and reached for his leg, he had been shot. Out of the dunes ran Mszizi and he lunged at the man.

"Auuugh. Owwh. Get off me," the man tried to wrestle but was quickly subdued. Mszizi was sitting behind the man now hugging both of the man's arms in a tight grip behind the man's back.

"Thank you for not killing him, Mszizi." Carl said returning his gun to its holster and brushing the sand from his clothes. Now turning to the man, Carl said, "you're hurt. If you want us to attend to your wound, you're going to need to tell us your name." Carl pulled a bottle of water and gauze out of his bag to prove his next move.

Mszizi squeezed tighter and the man sucked air through his teeth clearly in pain. "Dakota. Dakota Collins." Carl secured the rifle, emptied the ammo and set it near his bag. He examined Dakota's leg.

"You've just been grazed," Carl said examining his calf. "I know a thing or two about gunshot wounds." Carl poured water onto the wound and wrapped it. "So, are you going to make us kill you? We didn't come out here to kill anyone."

"I saw you coming, so I came out here to stop you from getting any closer to my shelter," Dakota confessed.

Carl nodded. "We don't need shelter, or food, or anything we'd attack you over. Right now, we just need to know where the walkers are and any other threats. Are you a threat?"

Dakota just stared.

"We come from communities that have learned to ask first, before taking," Carl continued, "We trade. As long as you don't do something stupid, we might be able to trade with you too."

"Well, I don't need anything except for you to stay away."

"We're going to use this tower to survey," interjected Mszizi.

"So, how about you come back here tomorrow with some supplies to replace the ones I used on you," Carl offered.

"What about my rifle," asked Dakota.

Carl squinted his eyes at him in disbelief. "You just traded that for your life. See you tomorrow, Dakota."

When they were our of earshot, Mszizi said, "we should follow him."

"Nah, I know where he lives." Carl didn't provide any further details. After all, the Saviors had just recently learned to ask before taking.

The next day, Carl and Mszizi returned to do the survey the island from the tower. Vincent was pissed when they came back the prior evening not completing their task, with only the rifle of a guy who had threatened them. Carl had to put his negotiation skills to use convincing Vincent and the rest not to come with them this morning and end it.

A couple hours into the survey, Carl saw Dakota approaching the tower from an unexpected direction, an attempt to thwart tracking to his shelter. Today, he also wasn't wearing that stupid bulletproof vest and his thick jacket was bundled in his backpack. _He's observant and adaptable._ Carl hit Mszizi on the arm and the two climbed down to meet him.

"Do you have my supplies," Carl asked. Dakota handed him a bottle of water and some gauze. Dakota was still breathing a little hard from his limped walk. Carl opened the water and handed it back to Dakota offering him a sip. Dakota took a drink and handed it back. _He's been a part of a trusting group before that shared_. Carl looked down at the bottle and smirked while he took a swig. "This water tastes a little off," Carl observed as he passed the bottle to Mszizi.

"It's desalinated water," Dakota explained. _Jackpot._

Before Mszizi could jump in and show all their cards, Carl changed the subject. "Have you given any more thought to what I said yesterday? Would you be interested in getting to know us more and perhaps seeing if there's anything we can offer each other?"

"Well, I do want my rifle back."

"So how many walkers have you killed," Carl asked casually.

Dakota stuttered not knowing how to answer.

"You mean almost 3 years into this thing, you're alone and you've never killed a single walker," Mszizi exclaimed in disbelief.

"I, I haven't alway been alone and I'm not alone."

"Meaning?"

"The people I was with, my colleagues, when they turn, we just left them. I just leave them."

"Leave them where?" Mszizi instinctively starts looking around.

"In my shelter, a...as a deterrent," Dakota acknowledged hesitantly. Mszizi nodded, he knew the tactic well. _That explains the jacket_ , Carl thought, _it's for getting in and out of home_.

"There are some out here, you know. But they don't walk. I can show you."

Mszizi and Carl exhaled decidedly and nodded for Dakota to show them. About a quarter mile further they came to the northern edge of the barrier island. Large rocks had been stacked long ago as a flood wall. Dakota started to climb them and Carl and Mszizi followed. When they got to the crest of the wall, their presence caused whatever was on the other side to growl. Carl looked down and saw body after body awash on the shore. Some bloated, some buried, some covered in seaweed, some truly dead, some just heads and mush, some had been picked at by animals. Certainly none of them capable of moving although they tried at the sight of fresh food on the wall.

Carl wanted to vomit.

"The tide brings them on shore here. By the time they started appearing, they were too far gone to be a threat. Originally they could crawl a little bit, but they cannot even do that anymore. A hurricane a year ago brought about 50 in. The islands north of here were more populated, beach towns."

The three climbed down the rocks and walked back toward the tower. Halfway back, Carl made an offer. "I have a way for you to get your rifle back. Come bring that NASA brain of yours to our outpost at the marine research field station and work with us. You help us get our project off the ground, we'll give you your rifle back."

With that, Carl said all he needed to say. Mszizi now understood that Dakota must have been an employee at the NASA testing facility that shared the island and Dakota was living in one of the buildings, likely the one a little distance behind them. Dakota knew that the anonymity of his shelter was blown, that they all knew it likely was stocked in resources and if he didn't play along he'd lose more than his rifle.

"What time tomorrow," asked Dakota defeated.

When they got back to camp Mszizi couldn't hold it in, "This kid. This kid right here is a motherfucker." Vincent looked at Mszizi like he might have gone insane. "You know that guy I shot yesterday? Dakota. He's coming here tomorrow to work for us. Work for us."

"I said with," Carl corrected, work _with_ us." Vincent turned to look at Carl while Mszizi continued. "Yeah, yeah. I mean he didn't threaten him or anything. Fuck'n amazing." Mszizi continued to mumble to himself what he had witnessed as he walked off.

"If he helps us, I'll give him his rifle back," clarified Carl.

"Is that so," said Vincent, "let's see shall we."

When Dakota showed up the next morning, Vincent introduced himself and took him on a tour of what they had created so far, the black tubs of passively evaporating water on the black roof of the dining hall, the fire pits and the simmering cafeteria stock pots of water.

"You've got the right idea, but you're wasting fresh water by letting it escape. You can get drinking water for you and salt for your communities. And you need to scale it. How many pounds do you need a month?"

"At least 100 lbs a week," said Vincent.

"How many people do you know," asked Dakota, shocked. Vincent chuckled. Dakota just shook his head in disbelief, "Ok, well let's get started."

The following week, Dakota had the operation moved to an aircraft hanger. They built a very long rectangular fire pit that burned 24/7. They had 25-gallon stock pots simmering away while the condensation was tented and funneled into tubes for fresh water. Scott and Carl transported 5-gallon buckets of water in their bike carts from the marsh and filtered it of sediments. Mszizi and Jennifer collected firewood and stacked it in the hanger to cure. Vincent and Esme managed the fires, cooking and storing.

The next week, they experimented with how much salt was needed to brine or dry pack and how long it kept the fish preserved. Mszizi and Jennifer had taken to calling Dakota by the nickname NASA, which he often protested. He told them that he had only been a graduate research intern, not a real employee. While most of the employees fled to their homes, the interns and a few others remained. He had lost the last of his intern friends last year when in the middle of the hurricane he became disoriented and ran into one of the deterrent walkers. "I bet you got hot showers up there, huh, NASA," Jennifer teased in all seriousness.

At the end of the month, they had their first 100lbs of salt. Vincent let Carl give Dakota his rifle back.

* * *

For the first time ever, Michonne didn't want to face the day. She could not stop thinking about Carl, the 2nd son she left behind. No, it wasn't like leaving Andre at all. Except that it felt like leaving Andre. Carl was with people she knew but didn't know if she could fully trust. She knew that feeling well. He was capable, but were they? Michonne heard her mother's voice in her head at this thought, "I trust you baby girl, it's those other drivers I don't trust."

Sadly, her mother's prognostic fears had proven true once already. Now, since Michonne couldn't go after Carl, all other responsibilities seemed unimportant. Except for Judith of course. She and Judy would snuggle in bed reading _The Little House_ over and over again until Rick came to scoop her up for preschool. When she would hear the front door shut as Rick walked Judith down the street, Michonne would just throw the covers back over her face.

Rick had never seen Michonne depressed. They had always thrown themselves into surviving or protecting, even in grief and sadness. Now, they had the bitter luxury of longing for Carl. Carl and Andre, Rick corrected himself.

After a few days of this, Rick came up with a plan. When he returned from dropping off Judith, he crawled into bed with her and scooped her into his little spoon. "Chonne, baby, is everything OK?"

"I want to save him, but I can't."

"Do you mean Andre?"

Michonne nodded silently, "and Carl."

"Carl doesn't need saving. He's going to come back to us." He squeezed her tightly. "I'm afraid too, but I trust him."

Tears started to well in her eyes. "Hey, hey, listen, I have an idea. You need a change of scenery, we both do. What do you say we go visit Maggie and little Hershel? I owe her a real apology and Hershel needs to bond with his best Auntie." Michonne smiled.

"And, I want you to think about something," Rick added.

"What," Michonne asked quietly.

"I want you to think about maybe us having one of our own."

"Another baby? What, so I can feel this lonely all over again?"

Rick chuckled gently, "Yes, but not for another 18 years. What do you say? You want to think about it?"

"I would like to spend some time with Maggie and the baby. Judy would too," Michonne conceded. Then, she turned to face Rick. They were nose to nose as she stroked his hair. "And, yes, Rick, I'll think about it."

* * *

When it came to the last week at camp Carl pulled Dakota aside. "Next week my companions and I are going to leave for a little while. I have to go home. My companions will return and I cannot promise that they will not want what you have. After all, that's a pretty big place for just one person. You will probably have to let them in. But, you are smart and if you are strong then you can set the boundaries, your house, your rules." Dakota nodded.

"I cannot teach you to shoot your rifle, you'll just have to practice while we're gone. But I can teach you to use this," Carl hands a machete to Dakota. "We need you, so your life isn't at risk, as long as you know you can handle yourself and you don't do something stupid." So everyday when it was low tide in the marsh, Carl and Dakota would practice wielding machetes on the growling north shore.

Finally, a week later, it was time to go. They packed up the barrels of salt into the truck. Carl said goodbye to Dakota, "if you ever want to, you can come to Alexandria."

"We'll see. I have a biofuel idea that I want to test out here first."

Then, Carl climbed into the truck and the crew headed back.

Rosita was at the guard post when she saw them approaching. She smiled and whistled to Josh who was at the gate. "Go get Rick and Michonne." Josh ran and a minute later Rick was running with him towards the gate. Rick opened the gate. He paced back and forth with excitement as the SUV rolled through. Finally, the vehicle stopped and Rick dashed over to the passenger side as Carl jumped out. They embraced in a tight hug.

"Coorl! Cooooorl!" Judith called out from Michonne's arms as they approached. She wiggled free and ran towards her brother.

Vincent walked over to Rick. "Returned safe and sound on day 60." Rick nodded, speechless with relief. "That is a hell of a boy you have there, Rick. He's the reason we were able to finish up a week ahead of schedule."

"It wasn't me," Carl interjected with Judith in his arms, "it was Dakota."

"Well, you found him," Vincent rebutted.

Carl shook his head as he walked away to Michonne. Her heart was running toward him, but her legs wouldn't move from the shock.

"I'm home, mom," he said to her sheepishly. Tears flooded her face as she pulled him and Judith in for a hug. When she could finally speak, she said, "I knew you would."


	13. Chapter 13

_Hi all, I have more to give. S7 threw me off, so I thought I was done. I've decided to keep this as a divergent fic that follows the gap in comic events with TWD TV characters. And in true TWD fashion, an OC bottle chapter below.  
_

* * *

Dakota Collins didn't turn his attention away from the departing truck of salt seekers until he could no longer make out their truck on the long sandy trail toward the mainland. For the past year, he thought he was the last breathing person on earth. Well, not the very last person, but his stranded colleagues and he had done the math. The rate of infection and the population size of coastal Virginia in September meant they knew the likelihood of ever seeing another living person again was infinitesimal and grew only less likely as the years wore on.

In the many months since that tragic night he lost Mason, his last surviving companion, Dakota had accepted his total solitude. And then just as suddenly reality was overturned by the impossible. Weeks ago, Dakota was walking back to the NASA research base, his home, from the marsh where he liked to dig for his daily meal of clams. He saw two forms walking down the former road. He could tell by their upright posture and sturdy gait that they were alive and not walking dead.

Dakota had panicked, ran back to the base, grabbed the rifle he had never fired, strapped on the bulletproof vest from the security guard closet and swiftly ran toward the approaching living beings. Later that fateful night, when he was cleaning his gunshot wound, he berated himself for the rash decision making and approaching these bandits. Injured and weaponless, he should have stayed in the base and tracked their actions from afar.

Now, that he had the island back to himself he thought he'd feel happy, secure. He had learned a lot from Carl Grimes and his fellow enterprising bandits, but he was scared of them and all they had seen and done. He could not keep his mind from wondering what kind of people were they? How many were they? Carl only mentioned Alexandria, where he was from, and not-Alexandria, where the companions were from. In several weeks it would be the Not-Alexandria salt seekers who would be back.

He needed to prepare for their return, practice being brave, as Carl had instructed. His first act of courage would be to acknowledge his present situation. As long as his undead colleagues roamed the entry floor of the compound he called home, he never felt alone. If he accepted the once improbable reality, that he was going to live with other alive humans again, he would need experience. Experience facing his fears. Experience fully grieving. Experience "handling himself."

He closed his eyes and exhaled. He let the sun warm his eyelids as he mustered the fight within him that had kept him alive. It was time.

Dakota slipped into the guard closet and suited up in his thick replica NASA jacket. These jackets had been framed and on display around the building in administrator and senior employee offices. It was Mason's idea to use them when the auxiliary power could not keep them warm on particularly cold week almost two years ago. It felt like such a big adventure at the time, sleuthing through the compound where even a year into the ZA the last remaining survivors still felt like intern guests. They'd find the framed artifacts, smash them and claim the prize. Each man raising his NASA jacket into the air like a trophy, like knights of a dead dream. All undead now.

Dakota grimaced at the memory and the task that lay before him. He then slung the strap of his heavy black rifle over his shoulder and went to set his trap. The layout of the entry floor was an exterior set of double glass doors, a small enclosed lobby with a security desk, closet room for security supplies, and an interior set of double wood doors that led into the main lobby of the building. He secured open an exterior entry door with a small bolder from one of plentiful riprap walls. He then grabbed the waste bin from under the security desk and stuffed it with paper and twigs and set it atop the security desk as eye level distraction. He stood in the security lobby silent for a moment, a second bolder at his feet ready secure open the interior entry door and a lighter in his hand. Once he opened that door there was no going back.

Three. Two. One. The next steps were a blur of adrenaline as the wastebasket lit up and exterior light flooded the front main lobby of the building for the first time in 3 years. Dakota bolted outdoors, set the rifle on his shoulder and unlocked the safety.

After an eternity he finally heard their groaning sounds as they headed into the light. The bait worked as they made their way toward the small fire. He lined up the rifle sights and fired. Dakota's head kicked back in shock at the explosion at his ear. He didn't know how loud a tactical rifle was. He tried to get his barrings and focus on the target. He saw one body on the floor as the undead turned toward his noise and away from the fire. Dakota lined up the rifle again.

The first walker out of the door was Mason. Dakota's breath hitched. He still recognized his friend in the gray fleshed monster. Even after a year, he was well preserved. Dakota fought against the sting in his tear ducts as he lined his sights toward Mason. The gunshot erupted in his ear again and Dakota couldn't help but flinch. He missed as the bullet cut a mark on Mason's cheek as it sped by. Realizing he missed, he felt the grief and fear drain from his body and a numbness took over. He set up his shot again and exhaled as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck Mason in cheek and the back of his head exploded red mush into the air. The body slumped to the ground.

The numbness suppressed Dakota's pride at making the shot. The elation was buried wherever the fear and grief had gone. He pressed his cheek against the gun, waited, and fired at the next walker. He focused on improving his aim with each approaching single file target.

When it was all over, he dug a trench in the sandy soil and piled in the bodies. He added more paper and sticks and tossed in the embers of the wastebasket. He turned and walked away as the bodies caught fire. When he returned from his belated clam dig in the marsh, he passed by the trench. The bodies had sufficiently burned, so he grabbed the shovel to fill in the ditch. As he worked, he tried to ignore the intact NASA jackets on his former fellow survivors. The fire retardant fabric a defiant reminder, "we were all you once."

As the sun set behind him, Dakota sat on the shoreline roasting his clams over a fresh campfire. His hearing slowly returned as he focused on the crackle of the driftwood and the lulling roar of the ocean. He was alive and alone. Unlike his deafness, the numbness had not faded. He sat wondering how long it would take for him to feel again if he could feel again. Dakota Collins, the lone intern of NASA, would be ready for the Salt Seekers when they returned.


	14. Chapter 14

When Carl returned, he observed Alexandria's new normal. The construction crew was suspended and converted into the farming crew. Tobin, Josh, and anyone with a free moment tilled up every patch of grass in Alexandria. The seeds turned into seedlings and were transplanted into the tilled earth. When Carl left Alexandria it looked like a weedy mausoleum to the cookie cutter neighborhoods of the past. When he returned Alexandria was alive, fertile. Josh showed him around the different gardens and then handed him a pitchfork. "We're burning the weeds over there. Go turn the pile." Clearly, some things had remained the same, like Carl's place.

By the end of the week, Carl had resumed all his chores, including feeding the prisoner. He discovered his regained responsibility when Olivia walked up to him as he tilled up her front yard and shoved the bag of food at Carl's chest and walked away. Carl put away his tools and headed to the cell.

Carl could hear singing as Gabriel opened the door to the makeshift prison. "Oh my darlin, oh my darlin, oh my darlin 'livia. I hear you calling, 'come and fuck me', oh my darlin..."

"Gross," Carl declared as he entered the room.

"Well, look if it isn't Carl Fucking Christ himself," chuckled the prisoner, "I thought you were dead and no one had the heart to tell me."

"I was hoping I'd never see you again, too," retorted Carl.

"Awwh, you know you missed me," he crowed. "Everyone needs someone to piss on. Here, you first," he proffered, arms open wide behind the bars as Carl approached the cell with dinner.

"I'm not like you, I don't need to whip it out to prove I'm a man," Carl quipped.

The prisoner smiled wide as he grabbed his plate. He was actually beaming at Carl like some kind of twisted proud uncle.

"So you still haven't fucked that scared-y chick yet," the fuckface surmised, "shit boy, you've been gone for how long and you can't lock that shit down? No?" He snickered, "She probably doesn't even fucking remember you at this point. Probably found herself an easy cock by now."

"You need to shut up about Enid. Don't ever talk about her like she's one of your 'wives.' You wouldn't know what it's like to really care about someone, to just want them alive and happy above all else."

The prisoner was silent for a second. He scoffed and said, "now who's the asshole. I'm just dicking with you. Trying to welcome you back to your shit life here with me." Then he shoved his empty plate back through the bars, regained his normal hubris and said, "tell your dad I want conjugal visits. I've been a good boy for 9 months now. I deserve a fucking visit from my wives."

"Gross," Carl retorted again as he left.

When Carl got home he tried to storm straight to his room, but Rick saw his mood.

"Carl, come here," Rick called out with a hint of worry in his command. "What is wrong, son? What happened?"

Carl mumbled, "I'm trying, dad. I really am. But I hate it."

The confession pierced Rick, but he tried not to show it. "Carl, you need to stop going over there, to the prison. Misery loves company. He knows how to get to you."

Carl shook his head not in defiance but in a kind of denial.

Rick lowered his head to look Carl in the eye, "This isn't your responsibility, Carl. He isn't your responsibility."

Carl bit his lip and looked past Rick, thinking. Rick saw himself then, in his son, the Grimes tradition of keeping it all in till it literally gnawed at you. He put his hand on his son's shoulder and let him think it though.

One May morning, Rosita called Michonne and Francine over to her house. "Listen, we gotta problem. We're seeing more walkers and I think it's strays from another herd."

"Any idea which way they are coming from," asked Michonne.

"No, not for certain. They seem to get to us before they reach the town and the foundry because Eugene says he's not seeing a noticeable increase in town. Daryl and Jesus didn't report any problems when they were out. So it must have developed in the last couple weeks while we've all been focused on working within the walls. I'll tell Rick about it, but the three of us have the most tower shifts. So we need to be vigilant."

Even though nearly every square inch of Alexandria had a food producing plant on it, the greenhouse was still full of seedlings. _We can't let these go to waste_ , thought Josh. He approached Carl with an idea. "Let's offer them up for trade. I need to go talk to Ken anyway. I need a solution for the powdery mildew on the zucchini. We can pack these up and take them with us." Carl was thrilled at the idea of visiting Hilltop. Dwight had said that they made their first salt trade with Hilltop last week, so Carl's proof of adventure proceeds him. As they approached the gate they told Francine their plan.

"Be extra cautious for walkers, Rosita thinks there is a nearby herd."

"We've got the walkie. We've also got the flare gun. And the usual firepower," Carl shared.

Francine nodded an acknowledgment and she opened the gate and let the young men through.

The air was blessedly cool this morning, much less humid than at the shore. While Carl didn't have to bike long distances there, the constant round trips from the marsh to the aircraft hangar had built up Carl's endurance. After hauling buckets of water, a few trays of plants was nothing. Halfway, though, Josh was struggling. Carl tried to match his pace, but it was getting slower by the mile.

"We're almost at the red barn, do you want to break there," Carl asked sympathetically.

"No," Josh said trying to hide his huffing breath, "I'm. F-fine." When they passed the barn Carl frowned.

Two more miles down the road they saw walkers in the road ahead.

"Could this be the herd," Josh whispered.

"Maybe. We should turn around."

"Ca," Josh choked.

Carl looked to his right. Only now in this instant had he realized Josh was in his blind spot. Josh and a walker who was biting Josh's back.

"Josh," Carl screamed in spite of himself. He grabbed for his blade and dug it into the walker's skull. "I couldn't see him," Carl whispered in horror, "I couldn't see him." Carl furiously scanned the perimeters now. "We have to go! Here," Carl directed as he knocked his cargo to the ground, "get on."

Josh didn't see the point, but he didn't want to jeopardize Carl's life too by arguing, so he got on the trailer. He was able to lie down with his knees bent, but it was excruciating as the weight on his back made his wound seared in pain. Though he was two-thirds of the way to Hilltop, Carl sped back toward Alexandria.

As they approached the red barn for a second time Josh spat out, "stop, I can't."

"We can make it home," Carl countered.

"No, Carl," Josh resigned, "I can't."

Carl's mind was racing with panic but he heard Josh's plea and headed toward the barn. He checked the inside of the still empty barn and peddled inside. He helped Josh off the cart and leaned him against the wall. The barn was shelter, but being so close to the road was picked clean of anything that could make Josh more comfortable.

Carl was silent but Josh could see the guilt in his eye. "This is my fault, Carl. I pushed it too far and wasn't ready to defend myself." Carl shook his head rejecting the dying man's attempt to assuage Carl's responsibility. "I'm going to go outside and see if I can pick up a signal on the walkie."

Carl's mind continued to fill with doubt. They had all tried to tell him. He fought back the feelings and turned the channel to Hilltop. "Hilltop Tower, this is Carl Grimes of Alexandria, do you read me, over." Carl waited a few seconds and repeated his greeting.

Finally, a voice came through "Carl? Carl this is Maggie. I something wrong?"

Carl started to cry. "Maggie," he sputtered, "we're stuck. There's a herd on 16."

Maggie could hear the emotion in his voice and her heart froze. "Carl, who's with you? Where are you?"

"I was escorting Josh to meet Ken. But, Josh is bit. We're in the red barn 7 miles south."

Maggie looked down at Dante who was approaching the tower. She called out to him to get Jesus and Marco.

"Carl, Jesus and others are coming for you. Do you have a weapon?"

Carl knew what she meant and he rubbed the handle of his gun. "Yes, I'm ready. I'll try to radio Alexandria."

"No, Carl. Stay quiet and hidden now. I'll try for Alexandria. Over and out."

Maggie flipped channels. She thought about running to the top of the big house where she knew the signal could get above the trees. But she didn't have time for that. This tower would have to do. "Alexandria Tower. This is Hilltop Tower. Pick up." After a minute of trying and no response, Maggie did the unthinkable.

Gabriel was on the tower when he saw a Saviors' truck approaching quickly. The truck appeared empty except for the semi-automatic rife laying in the passenger seat. The truck stopped at the gate and Ian stepped out. "I have an urgent message for Rick." Ian could see Gabriel was weighing the truth of his statement. He didn't want to waste more time and goodwill. "It's from the Hilltop, actually. A Maggie Rhee radioed us."

"Anne, open the gate," Gabriel shouted. After Ian parked, Gabriel escorted him quickly to the church where Michonne, Rick, and Rosita were in a meeting. Rick looked up from the table puzzled to see Gabriel and Ian rushing in. "Carl's in trouble," Ian announced. Everyone shot up from the table.

"Where…" Rick trailed off confused by the message.

"He's stuck on Route 16, near the Hilltop."

"How…"

"Hilltop couldn't reach you by radio, but they could pick up our east checkpoint. I was relaying with a Maggie Rhee. She has sent out a team to create a northern flank on the herd. She said for you to get a crew together to flank the south. And I've sent Mszizi to get Carl. He's got a soft spot for the kid."

Rosita looked at Michonne. Rick saw the look between the women, "Go. Get the horses and supplies ready. Gabriel and I will hold it down here."

It was mid-afternoon by the time Mszizi reached the Red Barn. He saw the slumped, curled up figure leaning against the barn door, he was looking ahead but he held his gun limply, almost dangling from off his knees. "Well, well, long time, no see," Mszizi teased. Carl looked up at the man first angry, then confused.

"How are you here?"

"The Hilltop called us. Told Ian where you were at. I volunteered to come get you. I had to see what magic you had pulled this time."

Carl shook his head. "No magic. My friend is dead. He was turning so I had to put him down a few minutes ago. There is a herd up the road. He got bit. I couldn't protect him like you did for me."

Mszizi's smirk faded at Carl's words. "Back to the real world, eh? Well, let's get you and your friend to Alexandria, OK." With that, they solemnly loaded the bike and Josh's body onto the truck. Then, they headed toward Alexandria.

The truck passed Michonne, Rosita, and Francine on the road as they got close. Carl gave the women a quick update of what he could remember of the herd. Michonne pulled him in for a hug. "We'll talk more when I get back," she promised him. And the parties parted.

For the 2nd time in a month, Rick was deeply relieved to see the Saviors return Carl. "My gratitude is insufficient. Please, let me at least resupply your gas for the trip."

"There is no need. You and Carl have done more for our community than Negan ever did," said Ian. When Rick didn't accept the praise as sufficient. Ian added, "we've got enough fuel. Really. " Rick looked at these Saviors with a puzzled look now.

Changing the subject, Ian patted Mzsisi on the back, "Mzsisi, It's time get out of here and let these folks deal with the day's events. We'll see you."


	15. Chapter 15

The herd team, Rosita, Michonne, and Francine, headed to Rt 23 to start surveying the size of the herd.

"You OK, Francine," Michonne whispered as the horses walked up the road.

"I'm going to miss him. Josh is a good guy."

Michonne and Rosita nodded thinking about all the good guys they've lost senselessly.

"We were doing so good," Francine continued. "No violence, no bites. Growing."

"We can have a service for him when we get back," Rosita offered. "We have a place to all gather now thanks to you."

Francine smiled weakly.

"And what about you Michonne. You were MIA for a couple weeks there," Rosita observed.

Michonne nodded, "I was missing someone."

"Carl," Rosita asked, surprised by Michonne's vague answer.

"Yes, but my son Andre too."

The other women held their breath. This was the most intimate information Michonne had ever shared with them.

"His birthday was in April, he would have been 7. I wasn't with him when he turned."

Francine's eyes started to water.

"I've been fine for a while now. But between Carl being gone, watching Judith grow and Andre's birthday, it caught up with me for a little bit, I guess."

"Yeah," Rosita confirmed, not ready to acknowledge where her head was at with Tara's death, "glad you're back."

Michonne looked at Rosita warmly, "me too."

"Do you think the Savior's will let us crash at their eastern outpost," Francine asked.

"You mean the one where we killed them all in their sleep," Rosita chided.

"Oh, guess not," Francine said sheepishly.

"There's a farm up the road. It's got a nice stable, we've picked it over several times, but we can sleep there tonight," Michonne compromised.

* * *

"Shit man, what did I fucking tell you about those fucking toys," the prisoner crowed. "You were gone for two months doing fuck knows what. Back for only what, two weeks? And now look at you, getting your people killed."

"Hey asshole," Carl countered, "I know what I did, alright." Carl couldn't help but sulk as he waited for the prisoner to finish his plate.

"Awwh, look at that pussy-whipped face of yours. That's what this is about. You don't give a shit about that farmer kid. You just can't get to her, can you?" His snicker halted as the sound of glass shattered against the wall.

"What did I tell you about talking about her?"

"Hey, serial killer, cut the shit. You act like you're the only one around here having to rub it out. Now, I know that between your dad and that numb nuts Daryl, no one has taught you to handle disappointment. I miss my Lucille every damn day, but you don't see me throwing shit."

"Figures you'd miss a baseball bat."

"See that right there is the mouthing off I'm talking about. You think you know shit but you don't know shit. As I see it you got two options, you can continue to channel your perpetual virginity into something fucking productive. Take a page from Eugene, all his pent-up jizz feeds his brain. That guy's a fucking genius!" The prisoner paused waiting for more backtalk. He smirked when he realized Carl had been listening and now glared at the prisoner silently intent on not reacting.

The prisoner continued, "Oorrrrr, you can listen a little and perhaps learn how to get what you want."

"You done?" Carl asked while reaching out for the plate, but the pinched anger in his voice implied the intended double meaning.

* * *

After the barn was secured, the horses in their stalls, the fire lit, Francine noticed something, "we didn't bring any men."

The three women looked at each other and burst into muffled laughter at the Freudian slip. "Yeah, that was kinda intentional on my part," Rosita confessed. "I'm taking a break."

"You and Scott not working out," Michonne inquired.

"Scott," Rosita scoffed, "we were over months ago. That's why he volunteered to go with the Saviors. And now he's back, still sulking. And so is Juan and Eugene,"

"Eugene," Michonne repeated surprised by the development.

"I'm not talking about it. He said something thoughtful about Tara, we had grief sex, that's it."

"Good luck," Francine sympathized then added, "But with you running through every eligible man, I've got no prospects."

"You can have your pick of any of the new arrivals, I'm done."

"Great, leave me the defecting Saviors," Francine shot back sarcastically.

"Hey, at least they know how to follow orders," Rosita offered.

Francine rolled her eyes, "that's it. I'm calling it a night we need to be out of here before sunrise."

* * *

Rick tried to talk to Carl about the day but lost track of him while packing up the team to find the herd and reassigning security shifts. Rick found Carl passed out on his bed _Love in the time of Cholera_ resting on his chest. Rick lightly hit Carl's leg to wake him.

"Hey," Carl said reviving.

"Hey, that's not your usual reading material," Rick observed nodding down to the book.

"Yeah, it's OK. It was recommended to me."

"By who," Rick inquired.

"No one," Carl replied.

"Ah," Rick answered knowingly. Rick knew good and well who _No One_ was and he despised him for having access to Carl. "Are you doing OK Carl?"

Carl couldn't answer. He was back to square one. Only now, knowing even more freedom than he had ever experienced before. He had no way out. Had Enid really forgotten him? Was Dakota ok with his new neighbors? Or was it a good thing Carl only had limited time at the marsh because he would have inevitably gotten Dakota killed too? He suddenly felt so naive for all those afternoons training Dakota on the walker-infested shoreline. What if something had happened? Who was he to protect anyone? No, Carl couldn't answer.

Rick sat silently by his son. He threw his arm around the young man's shoulder.

Finally, Carl choked out what he'd learned that day, "I couldn't see him." And then, Rick watched Carl retreat back into his guilt. Rick quickly realized he had wanted Carl to say that he was ok. Because he also realized that he didn't know what to say now to comfort Carl. Michonne had been the one to do that. Rick was a facts and an action man. He could listen, but the right words to say just escaped him. It was true, Carl's vision was a weakness. It was why he didn't want Carl out there in the first place. It was true that taking Josh out there for the full trip to Hilltop for the first time since the fall was ultimately a deadly decision. Rick squeezed Carl tight and said, "I love you, Carl. I'm relieved you made it home."

* * *

A couple hours before sunrise Francine took out the horses to graze. Then, they packed up and continued to head north. Michonne made the caravan stop every couple miles to scan the area for heavy walker activity. Eventually, they found the edges of the herd in the distance. Rosita radioed Marco and was relieved to find him in range.

"We got Wesley, Lin, Doug and me. We haven't found signs of the herd yet. I'll radio back when we sight them… wait. Nah we spot 'em. Least 1,000 in the road, more in the woods." The two teams radioed for a while longer developing a target direction, alternate routes, signals, and positions. Marco agreed to be the bait while the rest steer.

"We're going to try to develop rear and flank pressure. When we see the flare, We'll cut to 16, over," confirmed Rosita. "Ok chicas, let's go."

Michonne found steering walkers was the most exhilarating work that progresses about as quickly as watching paint dry. Constantly, scanning all around you and your horse for joining or straying walkers. Trying to keep direction while avoiding obstacles. And if you were the bait, depending on others to have your tail. Francine found the work disgusting if you were trying to blend in. Hours in the heat, covering you and your horse in walker guts. It didn't completely keep the biter's interest away, but it kept them confused enough to be more motivated to follow the herd than sniff around you. Most of the walkers were well past their expiration date, so if they started to stray, Francine and Rosita barely had to touch them with the spears for the walkers' heads to bust open.

After about 4 hours, the Alexandria women finally caught up to the Kingdom crew. The combined group agreed that the herd was around 10,000 strong and decided to execute plan b. They radioed Daryl for help. Marco used a boombox to draw them into the local high school fenced-in track and football field. The rest of the crew monitored the flanks to avoid break-offs.

By evening, Daryl had raced ahead of the herd. He successfully setup a bonfire pire in the center of the former football field and waited for Marco and the herd to arrive. Marco handed the boombox off to Daryl who ran it in near the bonfire. The herd entered from the wide equipment gates. Daryl climbed the fence on the opposite side of the field. Michonne and Lin entered the gates and trotted in a semicircle around the track course to continue to woo the walkers further into the field. Daryl popped open a small gate and the women's horses raced through. Wesley and Marco shut the wide gates while Rosita disposed of the straggling walkers.

Once the walkers were trapped, Daryl got his compound bow ready. He ripped a strip off his shirt, wrapped the tip of his arrow, set the arrow in the bow, lit the clothed arrow with his lighter, aimed at the pire of paper and shipping pallets and released the arrow.


	16. Chapter 16

_It's a fluffy one. Richonne, Grimes Family, soo fluffy._

* * *

Michonne awoke wrapped so tightly in Rick's arms that she could feel his heartbeat on her back. Every time she thought about his tendency to want to keep her close it made her heart beat faster with gratitude. Even after almost 2 years together, she still couldn't comprehend how she found the love of her life in all this. She didn't even have to pinch herself to prove it was real. All she had to do was stretch now in his arms and he'd pull her impossibly closer into him until it was difficult to inhale.

"Rick, baby, can I steal you away today?"

Rick groaned with satisfaction at the question and began to pepper her shoulder with kisses. Michonne matched his sound, but turned to face him and free herself from his clutches.

"Hold that thought, handsome. I meant away away, not to lock ourselves up in this bedroom all day away."

Rick chortled at her perceptiveness. "What did you have in mind, then, beautiful?"

"It's for Carl. He's just devastated about Josh and has sworn off those bicycles. And, well, it breaks my heart to watch him think he's trapped here."

Rick started to chew on his bottom lip at her acknowledgment of the current state of Carl's mood. Carl had been brooding like this for almost 2 weeks. He had taken to doing his coordination exercises again. So every evening, from the time Rick got home till Carl passed out, the house was a cacophony of a ball bouncing and dart throwing. Rick had offered to take him wherever he wanted to go, but Carl refused.

"So," Michonne continued, "I was thinking we could take a trip and ask the Kingdom for another horse, just for Carl."

Rick couldn't help but wince. "I'm not sure how that will help exactly. A walker could still approach the horse from his blindspot."

"I know. I am afraid of that too. If we gave Carl a choice right now, he'd side with our fear. But I don't want Carl's limitations to win. I don't want to watch him diminish into staying safe because he thinks he's a liability."

"Carl wouldn't…"

"Rick, it's already happening. You know it. He's starting to second guess who he can be in this world. And I won't let that happen."

"Yeah, I know."

"So, let's go pay our respects to the King."

"What can we offer him to trade?"

"Not much that he doesn't already have, but let's pack up something anyway, a down payment at least."

Before the plan pulled them from their bed Rick took one last moment to pull his love back into his embrace, this time face to face. He kissed her softly on the lips and lingered there. Finally said, "Thank you for loving Carl the way you do. You believe in him with such certainty and he needs that. Thank you for loving me the way you do too. For not letting me hide from what I know."

Michonne smiled and traced his face with her hand. For the second time that morning her heart swelled in amazement that this beautiful, heroic man loved her so completely.

"Come on then. Let's go."

Rick and Michonne were quiet most of their way to The Kingdom. The surprise herd had understandably put them on high alert. While Michonne drove, Rick scanned the surroundings as they sped past.

"I don't want him out here by himself," Rick blurted out mid-thought still looking out the window at the quiet surroundings.

Not missing a beat, Michonne nodded in agreement and added, "but?"

"But, he's more capable than almost anyone."

Michonne nodded more fervently. Then she took a depth breath contemplating the still unspoken rule change Rick was working through in his mind. "Once he gets over this, he's going to be as determined as ever to be out here."

"Or, he doesn't get over this and spends all his free time with that prick," Rick spat.

Michonne turned to look at Rick then. She never spoke of the prisoner. Rick made his choice. He chose mercy. She respected the need to feel like a good person, a just person. So, to her, the prisoner was just another community chore, another mouth for food ration calculations, nothing more. When others in the community took pity on him, Michonne made it explicit that was their personal charity. People would occasionally find books for him or other novelties. The only promise Rick made was to let the prisoner live and that was all she intended to see to.

Rick's bubbling jealousy over Carl's attention surprised Michonne a bit. Carl was the most charitable soul she knew. After all, Carl picked Michonne that fateful day in King County. It was obvious to her the prisoner and he would strike up a relationship given their history.

"So, here we are again. Carl is not safe inside or outside."

"He says it's the inside that is killing him," Rick scoffed. "After everythang, he doesn't want…" His voice trailed off again. Michonne waited to see if he'll finish. Rick tried again, "After everything, he doesn't want this place."

"Honey, no. No, it's not that. Even if he says it. He's a young adult who remembers what it meant to be a young adult before the world went to hell. He wants to go where he pleases. See and speak to whoever he wishes. Those desires are going to lead him before any concern for safety. Afterall, he learned it from the best," Michonne broke the solemness with a cheeky grin.

"I did all those things, took those risks for this so that he wouldn't have to. Sometimes, I just want him to be grateful. Just study math or something, play some basketball with the other boys, and be happy. Or some approximation of happy, anyway."

"With Maggie, Hershel and Enid out of reach and never knowing when's the next time he'll see them, if ever? We are his home, Rick. That will never change. But, we aren't enough. He needs his whole family. And, it put me under for a while, but I've finally made peace with the fact that he needs adventure too. That somehow, surviving hunger, loss, cannibals, walkers, war, all of it, he is a young Grimes and he wants more."

Rick finally chuckled at that. "And you're calling me old?" Michonne shot him a knowing look.

"Well studying math and playing a pickup game in the neighborhood does sound an awful lot like retirement to me."

Rick laughed again. The car fell silent for a while longer. Then, only a few miles from their destination Rick finally accepted what he already knew.

"So, we get him this horse and we let him visit the Hilltop unescorted."

Michonne smiled as she turned up the road to the Kingdom.

Rick and Ezekiel walked side by side approaching the stables and Michonne followed behind wrapped up in conversation with Taylor. Rick could not help but notice something was off about Ezekiel. The pomp was still the same. He still smiled too much. He spoke in the same broken Elizabethan vernacular. But something in his eyes was tipping off the act this time.

Rick tried to inquire in round about ways as they walked together, but he'd never figured out how to match the King with his story telling. So Rick's subtly questioning was ignored as Ezekiel replied with non-answers about the fertile stables and excellent spring berry crop.

When they arrived at the improvised stables Michonne explained to Adam what had happened to Carl and Josh on the road. After condolences were exchanged, she asked Adam for a special request. "We need a horse that is confident and well adapted. One that can be a companion to Carl, signal danger, not just another life needing his protection on the road."

Adam nodded contemplatively. Only one horse fit that description, his horse, Sailor. As he brought her out for Rick and Michonne to inspect, Rick recognized the horse right away and felt uneasy with the offer.

"Adam," Rick said disbelievingly.

"She's the best, Rick. There is a reason why Sailor was the first horse we were able to rope and tame. She chose us. She social in her nature and calm. She's a leader. If you want Carl to be able to trust again out there, Sailor's the one."

"We didn't bring a full offer trade with us. It's just a down payment. And for your horse, Adam, it's not even that." Rick looked at Michonne then, stalled in the uneven trade.

King Ezekiel, noticing the look, interceded. "Noble Rick, we didn't get to speak of the new charge of which I am in need of aid." Everyone turned toward the King. "We are fully dependent on these horses now for transportation yet we have almost no wagons to hitch. We will take your down payment in trade for this fine horse and within the month, you will return and deliver us two large wagons."

Michonne lit up. "As always, thank you, your Majesty, we accept the commission and will deliver your wagons within the next few weeks."

While Ezekiel assisted Rick with saddling up Sailor for the trip, the quiet between the men finally enlightened Rick to the change.

"Where's Carol?"

"Fair Carol is not within the Kingdom at present. Upon a recent fish delivery, Carol discovered that the fishmonger is struggling to supply, the work is too great. Before I even learned of the troubles or could seek volunteers, our Carol had packed and was leaving with the fishmonger. She said she needed to be where she was most useful."

"Yeah, that sounds like Carol, alright. She doing ok out there?"

Ezekiel's face dropped and he looked at Rick with earnest heartbreak, "I know not. She has not written." After Rick finished cinching the straps, he walked over to the King and gave him an empathetic pat on the back. He knew this exact heartache of loving an independent woman. This same woman who would tonight arrive home several hours behind him as she rode Sailor and he drove. Yes, he knew this pain well.

The next morning, the Grimes family went out to the stable garages. Rick stood back as Judith hugged behind him. Michonne brought Sailor out of the stable.

"Carl, this is the first horse we caught out there at the shore. Her name is Sailor and she will be yours."

"Dad." Carl's feelings were a rollercoaster of gratitude, excitement, and fear. Finally, it all came crashing down into self-doubt and grief. "I can't. Josh dies and I get a pony, that is fucked up."

"Language," Rick scolded as he attempted to cup Judith's ears. "This isn't a gift, Carl. It is payment for work you and I need to do for the Kingdom." With this retelling of events, Carl seemed receptive. Rick continued explaining about the horse wagons, delivery deadline and even embellished that Sailor had to be payment up front since she was going to help get the wagons delivered to the Kingdom.

Finally, Carl nodded in agreement working through the project in his mind. "Ok, after we design the things, we'll need to go to the Hilltop to talk to the blacksmith about parts."

With that Rick and Michonne looked at each other, both maintaining quality poker faces, except for their smiling eyes.

To keep up appearances, Rick replied, "Carl, you're going to have to practice within the walls before we can consider that. And you have to clear it with me directly before you leave the community."

"Jesus, Dad." Carl protested as he took the reigns from Michonne.

"Carl, language!"

Rick took Judith's hand and walked back to the house. On the way home, the little girl noticed Rick chuckling.

"What's so funny, Daddy?"

"Nothing in particular, sweet girl. Daddy, is just happy."


End file.
